Warped Identity
by Anthezar
Summary: AU. When Slade attempts to blackmail Robin to become his apprentice, the two of them discover something shocking that changes Robin's whole outlook on his identity. As he struggles to figure out who he truly is, he learns that things aren't always as they seem and that sometimes in life there are second chances for everyone.
1. Unmasked Obsession

**Warped Identity**

**A Teen Titans Fanfiction**

**by Anthezar**

**Full Summary:** AU. Robin still hates himself for making the biggest mistake of his life: Red X. The self hate, the self loathing are his constant companions and his self worth as a hero is being threatened by the presence of Slade. Just how much longer could he tolerate his incompetence of allowing this villain loose in the city? Just how many more people would be hurt because of his failure?

But because of his extreme anger and hatred towards the man, he doesn't see the trap that was set up for him. But when Slade attempts to blackmail Robin in becoming his apprentice, the two of them discover something shocking that changes Robin's whole outlook on his identity. As he struggles to figure out who he truly is, he learns that things aren't always as they seem and that sometimes in life there are second chances for everyone.

Will Robin be able to let go of the self hate and let new love fill the void? And will Robin be able to discover the real man behind the mask? Both his own and the one that conceals Slade?

Sometimes people in life aren't who they seem to be.

**Genre:** Drama, Angst, Friendship, Family, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

**Warnings:** Rated T for action violence, physical abuse, and light, clean romance. Alternate Universe; thus, not canon compliant – so, don't expect Adeline or Rose in this. Romance pairing is Robin/Starfire and another pairing that shall remain undisclosed. Just will have to wait for it. **No slash**, _at all_.

**Author's Note:** Aha, weren't expecting a new story, were ya'll? Guess what, neither did I. XD

So, this popped in my head while wrapping up _Forgotten Bonds_. I honestly never thought I'd ever do a second story with Robin and Slade in a different environment, but it looks like my brain proved me wrong. One thing you shouldn't expect is timely updates like with _Forgotten Bonds_. Just don't… First writing priority is to finish that, then my original novel; but I had to flush this out of my system so I could continue on with _FB_. Plus, it was helpful to keep me writing when I was stuck on FB. So, since I was able to get a consistent thought process here, I thought I'd share it. No worries, I will finish it eventually – although, I expect this to be a shorter story. A _much, much_ shorter story.

Should be interesting.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Unmasked Obsession**

Robin growled. Irritation rose up inside his chest and he ran a fierce hand over the countertop table; scattering the broken remnants of the existence of Slade all over the floor. Self hate, self anger, even self distrust flowed through his entire soul. Why couldn't he capture this man? Why couldn't he lay his hands on this slippery man who was far more oily than a stick of butter?

Robin turned and leaned against the countertop; sliding down to the floor and pulling his legs to his chest. He leaned his head against the wall of the table; turning it to the side and looking through the evidence room. The room was darkened, only a single lamp lighting the countertop and placing Robin into the shadows.

How long was he going to let this madman run lose in his city? How long would this incompetence last? Robin was a skilled hero; this ineptitude that he was displaying with this criminal was just unacceptable. How could he let this man loose? Surely Robin's old mentor, Batman, would be sorely disappointed in him over this. Robin felt the same. He had to find this man. He had to bring him down.

It just illustrated to Robin his glaring mistakes. Just how many more mistakes would he make before he finally made a right choice? Because of his stupid mistake, he had lost the confidence and trust of his team members. Donning the criminal alter ego, Red X had been one of his worst mistakes ever. Slade had easily seen through the ruse all too well.

That was another thing that bugged Robin. Slade was just so irritating about it all, too. His smooth voice, so silky and so smug; like he owned the world and everyone in it – just irritated the crap out of Robin. That voice grated through his nerves so much. What was the most annoying thing about it was the fact that it was _so_ coaxing, _so_ smooth that Robin sometimes felt lost in it – an almost nostalgic feeling. Something his mother had once said. Robin wasn't sure what it was, but there was something about Slade that made him remember the past that he rather have buried.

Like the deaths of his parents. Eight years ago, at the tender age of eight, his parents, Mary and John Grayson, were killed. That was how he, Richard 'Dick' Grayson, came to become the ward of Bruce Wayne, who just also happened to be Batman himself. Tony Zucco was the man who killed his parents. He had felt so much anger and so much hatred towards the man, he probably would've killed him with his bare hands if he landed them on that terrible man. But Batman had taught him otherwise and helped him focus that anger into something more constructive.

Like crime fighting. That was when Dick took on the name Robin. It was then that he left his real name behind. Robin never wanted to remember the poor, pitiful boy whose parents were torn from before his very eyes. He didn't want to remember the long lonely nights of tears in longing. He didn't want to remember the anger and hatred that threatened to consume his very soul.

No, he just wanted to be Robin, a bird that was free of all those feelings and free of all the pain; lifting above all those things to skies faraway.

But now his supremacy in crime fighting was being threatened by this man. Even Robin's dreams were clouded by the man. No night was safe from the haunting dreams of taunting and laughter that lifted the man's smooth voice. Like tonight. Once again his sleep had been disrupted by an awful dream. Unable to sleep, he had retreated to the evidence room. And yet, he still couldn't escape the man. His thoughts were flooded with him.

And this merely irritated Robin even more.

This was Robin's city. _His_ city. No way he was going to let Slade think that he can get away with threatening the innocent lives of the people who lived here.

The door suddenly slid open, light streaming into the darkened room and causing Robin to look towards the source. Cyborg stood in the doorway. Robin quickly got to his feet.

"It's Slade," said Cyborg, sounding grim.

Robin's heart tensed instantly. He flexed his hands at his sides. That madman was up to something now. What was he going to try to destroy now? Whose lives would be threatened now? Did Robin have the power to stop him?

Well, he'd just _have_ to have that power.

Robin wordlessly nodded and broke into a small run to the door. In moments, he and Cyborg were in the main room. All five Titans were gathered around the large computer screen. Robin leaned against the keypad and glared up at the two toned masked man that was displayed on the screen; straight into that visible crystal blue eye.

"Well, good morning, dear Titans," said Slade in his smooth tone. Robin tried not to grind his teeth in his irritation. "Oh my, I hope I didn't wake you."

"Maaan, what are you?" moaned Beast Boy, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "An insomniac? Who the heck calls at five o`clock in the morning—_ow!_"

Raven elbowed him and sent him a sharp look to shut up. Beast Boy folded his arms grumpily and pouted. He began to mumble quietly about crazed insomniac villains who loved to steal precious sleep from heroes.

"What do you want?" snarled Robin.

"Yes, that is the question of the day, now isn't it, Robin?" said Slade, his tone overflowing with silk. "Even with all the clues I've sent your way, you still haven't figured out my plans."

Robin's hands clenched tightly. Newfound hatred poured through his veins.

"I'm disappointed in you, Robin. I expected a bit more from you—"

"As _if_ I give a crap about what you think," snapped Robin. "What are you planning!"

"I never can understand why heroes expect an answer to that question," said Slade in a thoughtful tone. Robin got the distinct impression that the man was merely toying with them and that just aggravated him even more.

"Slade, you—"

"But since it would be boring," continued Slade, completely ignoring Robin, "if I was able to go through with my plans without a little entertainment from the Teen Titans, I thought I'd reveal my plans to you. You all understand the significance of a Chronoton Detonator, I'm sure."

Slade moved aside to reveal a large machine.

Robin's eyes widened beneath his mask as his heart fell into his stomach. This was not good. This was bad; _very bad._ Of all the plans that Slade had chosen, it had to be something like this. His heart fluttered in panic as he thought of all the people who lived in the city.

Around Robin, there were a collective number of gasps and sharp intakes of breaths. Beast Boy let out the loudest and cried, "_Oh no!_"

Then, he looked over at Starfire and scratched his head. "What's a crouton detonator?"

"It eliminates all time in a localized area, permanently eradicating that area's space time continuum," said Starfire, fearfully looking up at the machine; her hands clasped over her heart. Beast Boy raised his eyebrow and turned to Raven for answers.

"Subtitles, please? With a translation."

"It stops time. Permanently," said Raven in her deadpan voice.

Beast Boy gasped; grabbing his hair in fear. He went into hysterics and began to run around in circles; screaming that they were doomed. Robin's irritation reached its peak and he sent a glare at the young changeling.

"Get a grip, Beast Boy!" snapped Robin. He whipped his head to glare back up at Slade. "Why are you doing this? Do you really want to put this city into a permanent time freeze? What do you have to gain from it?"

"Those are some very good questions, Robin," purred Slade. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Where is it? Tell me where you've hidden it!"

"Now that wouldn't be as much fun, now would it?" said Slade, his crystal blue eye flashing once with enjoyment. "The game starts now, Robin. You're a smart lad. You figure it out. But since I hold onto the detonation, time is running out for you."

The connection disconnected. Slade's masked face was gone. Only static remained on the screen.

Robin clenched his fists; his body becoming overrun by numerous emotions – fear, fury, hatred, panic, determination, and more fear. He hated feeling that way. He wanted to feel like Batman – cool, aloof, and indifferent; yet, serious and determined. If he could just feel that way, then his body wouldn't be shaking at that moment. It wouldn't be completely terrified for the people of the city. There was a madman loose and it was his fault for not being able to bring him down. Robin had to do something. He had a duty to protect the innocent people of Jump City.

Robin smashed a clenched fist against the keypad, uncaring if he broke it.

"Fan out," said Robin through gritted teeth. "Find it and _shut it down_."

He whirled around and began to stride out of the room, only to be stopped by Cyborg and Beast Boy; both boys standing in front of him. Cyborg had a raised eyebrow with folded arms while Beast Boy looked extremely nervous. The changeling put a hand to the back of his neck.

"He–hey, maybe you should stay here… and um… m–maybe coordinate the search?" said Beast Boy, avoiding full eye contact with him. Robin narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Look, we all know how you feel about Slade," said Cyborg. "But when it comes to this guy, you've got issues. Big ones. It might be better for you and the team as a whole if you sit this one out."

"Not happening," said Robin flatly, his clenched fists shaking at his sides. "You guys need my help if you come across Slade."

"But Robin—"

"I can handle this, Cy," snapped Robin, trying to hold back his anger. "I can't just sit back here on my butt, twiddling my thumbs, when I know there's a psycho on the warpath."

"Robin," came Starfire's soft voice. It caused Robin to turn, looking back at her. "We have not forgotten what happened before; the last time you faced Slade."

"What happened before was a mistake," said Robin; trying his hardest not to snap at Starfire. He didn't want to offend her or hurt her feelings. No matter how angry he was, he couldn't let himself be angry at Starfire. She was the only one.

"One I'll never make again. I'll be okay with this. I promise."

Robin turned away and began to walk towards the door of the main room.

"Well, you can go on a wild goose chase if you want," said Raven in a dry tone. "Or you can wait a moment and find out where to look."

"What?"

Robin turned back to see the computer screen displaying the Chronoton Detonator. He took a few steps forward as Raven worked on the computer. The others gathered around her as well.

"Slade left us a clue," said Raven. "There's a reflection here."

She zoomed into the image of the machine. A blurred image of a reflection showed up.

"Sooo, anyone know how to read blur?" drawled Beast Boy.

He was ignored by Raven as she zoomed in once more, the image beginning to become clear. Then, she flipped the image to reveal a name: Pier 41.

Raven folded her arms and gave Beast Boy a look, who in return had the good conscious to look guilty and repentant.

"Pier forty-one!" cried Starfire, clapping her hands together happily. Robin smashed a clenched fist into the palm of his hand.

"The docks," said Robin, letting a smile lift the side of his lips. Slade wanted to play a game; well, that's just what they'd do. Except they would come out the winners.

There was no way Robin was going to let this man win.

As quickly as it was possible, the entire team left the tower and went straight to Pier 41. The adrenaline was pumping through Robin's veins. The thought of coming face to face with this man sent electric shivers down his back; a mixture of anticipation, apprehension, and pure antagonism. But deep down, somehow, Robin knew he was afraid of the man. Slade was powerful and it always seemed like the man was playing with them; like a cat with its prey.

And that scared Robin.

He didn't like being afraid. He didn't like the unknown; not when the unknown seemed out of reach like this. Robin wanted so much to cleanse himself of such feelings. He didn't want to show fear, let alone feel it.

But at that moment, he was completely afraid for the people of Jump City. They were depending on him for their future. He couldn't fail them.

Once they reached Pier 41, Cyborg lifted his arm, cannon forming, before he let loose a supersonic blast towards a set of warehouse doors. The doors exploded open and the five team members leapt into the warehouse, poised and ready for battle.

It was empty.

Panic lifted inside Robin's chest. They were too late. Slade moved the detonator to another location. How long would the game go on before Slade tired of it and set it off?

"Dang it!" cursed Robin, his grip tightening on his bō-staff. Suddenly, a Slade robot appeared, followed up by many more. Robin's grip couldn't get any tighter. So, Slade left presents behind for them. Wonderful.

"Ah, man," groaned Beast Boy. "Now what do we do?"

Robin prepared a fighting stance.

"We take them down," said Robin in a dark undertone. "_Titans. Go!_"

Robin bolted forward with fury he hadn't felt in years. He attacked with rage and power. Robots were taken down within a single attack. The only thing that drove Robin forward was his anger – pure anger and hatred towards Slade. How dare the man threaten innocent lives. How dare he come and think he had that right.

The only word that filled Robin's mind was _Slade_.

He tore through the robots with a vengeance, imagining each time he brought one down as the moment when he'd take down Slade. The man would fall like these robots. Robin wouldn't hold back. He'd take the man down with everything he had.

And it would be enough.

"I knew it," said Cyborg, standing aside with the other four team members. He folded his arms and watched as their leader plowed through the robots like Beast Boy with a tofu sub. "We should've left the little dude back at home. He can't handle this."

"Yeah, and possibly even tied to a chair," said Beast Boy, wincing as another robot landed in forward of them, its masked face completely smashed in. "And I dunno, some duct taped, too."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far."

Beast Boy waved a hand at the ever growing pile of robot carnage. Then, he folded his arms, lifted an eyebrow, and sent Cyborg a dubious look.

"Guess you're right," said Cyborg, scratching his head as yet another obliterated robot fell to its robotic death.

"This isn't good," said Raven, putting a hand to her forehead. "He's completely lost it."

"Oh, friends; I am sure Robin is not doing the losing it," said Starfire, but she didn't look sure. She bit her lower lip. She hated seeing Robin like this. There was so much anger in his heart. She wished he wouldn't be so harsh right now. She wished he was fighting with his team members, instead of taking down the robots all on his own. Each of them had tried to join in the fray, but Robin was just too quick for them; his rage and anger driving him further into darkness it seemed.

Her heart ached for her friend.

"Robin, please; _please_ stop," said Starfire, slowly walking towards Robin. He had completely destroyed all the robots and was still attacking an inanimate one with his staff. "Robin, _please_." Starfire knelt down and clasped Robin's wrist with her hands. Robin stopped, looking startled by Starfire's touch.

"There is no need to continue. We are victorious."

'_We are victorious.'_

_No, we're not. The madman still has us right where he wants us. We haven't won. We might've passed this point, but we haven't won the game. Slade still is loose._

"You call this a victory?" whispered Robin, dropping his hand. "We're still no closer than we were before. This isn't a victory."

Robin stood up and whirled around.

"The city is still in danger," growled Robin. "Just how is that a victory?!"

With a huff, he strode out of the warehouse. Cyborg sighed, shaking his head. Starfire bit her lip again, looking completely worried; while Beast Boy and Raven were exchanging looks.

As they walked outside of the warehouse, Cyborg looked at his scanners on his arm.

"Well, we at least know that the detonator was here," said Cyborg. "We just need to figure out where it went. It's not like it could've gone far; we arrived here pretty fast."

"We should split up," suggested Beast Boy.

"Oh, yeah; that'll work," drawled Raven. "Let's all just go on a bunch of wild goose chases. Brilliant, Beast Boy."

"Well, if you're so smart, why don't you suggest something better?" snapped Beast Boy with a huff, crossing his arms childishly.

"I think we should stay together," said Starfire quietly. She made a soft gesture towards Robin, who was glaring out over the ocean. "It would be best for all."

Robin tore his gaze away from the sea; glancing towards the other warehouses. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

There was a man.

"_Freeze!_" shouted Robin, bolting forward.

"Ro–Robin?"

Robin ignored the cry; his adrenaline pushing him forward. The anger was clouding his mind without him even knowing it. In between two warehouses, the man was attempting to escape. Well, Robin was just not going to allow that.

He obstructed the man's escape with a birdarang, his boomerang weapon. The man gasped in fright and before he could do anything, Robin had the man by the collar and smashed him into the wall of a nearby warehouse.

"You're going to tell me all you know about this," said Robin in an icy, frightening tone; holding up the insignia of Slade.

"I–I–I–uh—"

Robin grabbed the man with both of his hands and pulled him back to smash against the wall again.

"_Answer me!_"

"I d–don't know!" cried the man, his eyes completely fearful. "I've never seen it before in my life!"

Before Robin could answer, Raven's black magic engulfed his body and pulled him away, smashing him against the other warehouse's wall. A moment later, she let him go and Robin dropped to a crouch.

"You said you could handle it," said Raven as Starfire took a moment to apologize to the frightened man.

"That's it," said Cyborg, shaking his head. "Maybe you should go back to the Tower and cool off. This isn't good, man."

"I'm fine," snapped Robin. "We need to hurry. We're just wasting time here."

Robin whirled around and began to walk away.

"Hey, you know," piped up Beast Boy hotly. "Just because we're fighting Slade, doesn't mean you've gotta act like the guy."

Robin froze.

_Me? Act like Slade?_

Robin whirled back around.

"I'm _nothing_ like Slade," growled Robin in a low, deep voice. His tone turned icy. "Don't you _ever_ compare me to him. I'm trying to save the very city that Slade is trying to _destroy_. How the _heck_ does that make me like him?!"

There was a long moment where Robin glared down at his younger teammate. Beast Boy stood his ground, glaring back up at the leader. But then, the tension was soon rectified.

Starfire sneezed.

Normally one would think this wasn't a big deal, but since it was Starfire, it was _very much_ a big deal. Her simple sneeze created an explosion straight from her mouth. The other four Titans had no warning and were caught in the sneezefire.

A moment later, the dust settled; leaving four disheveled Teen Titans.

"Gesundheit," said Raven, running a hand through her tousled hair.

"Oh, I am truly sorry," said Starfire, putting a hand to her mouth. "I am allergic to metallic chromium. There must be a source around—"

She stopped, getting a strange look on her face.

"Ah… Ahh…"

Taking this as a warning sign, the other Titans scattered.

"_Aaachoooo!_"

There was a responding explosion that blasted from Starfire's mouth and nose consecutively. As the dust settled, she sniffled unhappily.

"Ugh… Sorry."

"Well, this is interesting," said Cyborg as he lifted his arm, looking at the schematics that played on the surface.

"Not especially," sniffled Starfire once again. "Such allergies on my home planet are quite common."

"Not what I meant," said Cyborg with a small smile. "I meant a Chronoton Detonator has a metallic chromium core."

Beast Boy's green eyes brightened.

"Which means Star can track it!" cried Beast Boy excitedly; however, Starfire didn't look as excited, sniffling once more.

"Delightful," drawled Raven, rubbing her temple with a finger.

Thus, the group began the arduous task of following Starfire's senses. Unfortunately, every few moments there would be yet another dangerous sneeze, coupled with the eminent explosion. Each Titan did their best to stay away from the… sneezefire.

Soon, Starfire's sneezing led them into the sewers. The air was pungent, assaulting their senses as they walked through the thin layer of water. The only sounds were the tickling of water, the padding of their feet through, and Starfire's sniffles.

Starfire sneezed yet again. She sniffled, rubbing a finger to her nose.

"Ugh, I think it is this way," grimaced Starfire, continuing forward through the settling dust. The other four members were tense and wary. None of them really wanted to go to the next life by sneeze. That'd be an interesting obituary.

Robin looked through the group, feeling like a pure idiot. He'd acted so hot headed. His blood had been roaring in his ears, thinking only of Slade; getting to him, stopping him, taking him down. He hadn't stopped to think properly and almost hurt an innocent. If he wasn't careful, he'd cross the line yet again like he had with Red X.

"Um… Guys, about earlier…" Robin trailed off for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. He looked to the side for a moment, before trying again. "I'm so—"

"It's going to have to wait," said Raven, overriding him. She pointed ahead and there inside a boat was the Chronoton Detonator itself. There was a robot working the controls. Once it caught sight of them, the speedboat revved up and started to travel down the sewers.

"Titans, g—!"

Suddenly, the wall blasted open and Robin felt a powerful, oversized hand grab him. He cried out in shock as he was thrown into another corridor of the sewer. Instantly, he felt the hand punch towards him and he quickly rolled to the side. The ground shook from the force of the blow. As the dust settled, Robin saw that his assailant was the large cement man, Cinderblock.

"Robin!" cried Starfire.

"I'm fine!" shouted Robin, engaging his foe. "Get the detonator!"

The other Titans hesitated for a moment before they obeyed their leader. Starfire hung back for a moment; looking worriedly at the fight.

"I can handle this, Star. Go with the others!" cried Robin, managing to give her a small wave of his hand before he devoted all his attention to Cinderblock. He could only assume she listened to him since she didn't join in the fight. Robin's nimble body was too quick of a target for the oversized clunk of animated stone. Robin's mind was focused on one fact, his body pouring with adrenaline as the excitement of the battle fueled his energy; fighting, punching, kicking with his entire soul.

_Slade._

That single most thought was in the foremost of his mind: _Slade._ He would find that man and take him down. He had to protect Jump City. There was no way that Robin would allow the man to roam free in _his_ city; the city he swore to protect with the Teen Titans. The city wasn't anything like his old hardened city of Gotham where he had been partnered with Batman, but this was the city that he had come to make a name of all his own – a name that wouldn't be overshadowed by the Dark Knight.

He'd bring Slade down with his own power.

With a burst of energy, Robin smashed his steel covered boot into Cinderblock's face. Then, with adrenaline raged strength, he lifted the heavy cement man over his shoulders and threw him backwards. With a tremendous tremor in the ground, the cement man landed with a crash. Robin leapt onto Cinderblock's stomach.

"Where is he?" shouted Robin. "Where—huh—?"

Robin stopped as sounds of beeping lifted into his ears. He glanced towards the direction and found a locator in Cinderblock's open hand. Robin grabbed it and stared at the screen. There was a flashing arrow on it with the insignia of Slade flashing as well. The wheels began to turn inside Robin's head and he couldn't help the smile that lifted the side of his mouth.

"Found you."

….….…

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Two: A Change in Destiny – As Slade attempts to blackmail Robin in becoming his apprentice, the two of them discover something shocking that changes everything Robin had ever imagined about himself.

**Author's Notes:** Luckily, my dear readers, you're guaranteed a second chapter at this time. It's just about finished. *sighs* Good grief, what have I gotten myself into… XD

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	2. A Change in Destiny

**Author's Note:** Yay, next update. Fun stuff ahead, my friends. Thanks for all the reviews! Glad you're all liking it so far and I'm glad you're also liking the cover. ^^

Am I crazy to start another story? Yup. Guess what? It's the story of my life.

–.–;

Still love this chapter, though…

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**A Change in Destiny**

Robin stood outside the door that led into Slade's haunt. Adrenaline began to pump through his veins. He was actually going to see this man face to face. He was actually going to bring him down with all his power. He would do it. He had to do it. The city depended on him to protect them.

Not to mention, Robin hated Slade showing him up so many times. Time to bring the man down a few notches.

Slade's smooth voice lifted through the door. "You best hurry Titans. You're running out of time."

With a smirk, Robin tossed a disc grenade at the door. In a moment, there was an explosion and Robin stood in the now cleared doorway, confident as ever. Dust lifted into the air before him from the explosion.

"You know, I think we just went into overtime," said Robin; his tone dark, but there was a lift at the edge of lips.

"Well, if it isn't Robin," purred Slade, not turning around. He was standing in front of many large vertical computer screens that displayed the Titans' pursuit of the Chronoton Detonator. "Welcome. I've been awaiting your arrival."

"This ends now, Slade," said Robin, leaping down from the stairs to the bottom level of the haunt. There were numerous gears that clinked above his head. "You're going down."

"Well, you'll just have to prove that to me, won't you?" said Slade in a silky tone. The screens went blank. He lifted a hand to show a square device – the controller to the Chronoton Detonator. Robin stiffened as he stared at it. Slade waved it once tauntingly.

"You're looking for this, aren't you?" said Slade. "Well, let's just see you come and take it."

Slade stepped forward a few paces and set the device on the floor. Then, he withdrew, putting distance between him and the device. Robin's eyes flittered to the device and then to Slade. A part of him knew that he had to get that device out of Slade's reach; but his other side was screaming at him to take this man down instantly.

Robin darted forward.

Somehow, Robin heard a soft chuckle before the man bolted forward as well. Before Robin even reached the device, Slade was in front of him. In the brief moment before impact, Robin was instantly aware of the height difference. The man's presence was powerful.

This was the real deal – definitely not a machine.

Slade's leg twisted, smashing into Robin's side and sending him flying to the side. Robin skidded against the ground, falling backwards once and rolling out of it to land on his feet. He swallowed nervously, trying to push down the terrible feeling that was rising in his chest.

He darted forward again with a cry and threw as many punches as he could. The battle raged as Robin dodged blows from Slade, his acrobatics in full working order, while the man easily dodged his blows with agility and speed. Sweat clung to Robin's body beneath his suit. Robin was fully exerting himself in this battle, trying his all to bring the man down.

But something was becoming glaringly apparent to Robin and it was taking all his self control to keep the pure terror from overpowering his heart.

In the battle, he was too slow to dodge another kick into his side. He coughed harshly as he burst to the side, smashing into the nearest wall. He landed face down onto the ground. Instantly, he tried pushing himself up. He was gasping for breath from the pain that raged in his side. A bead of sweat tickled down from his temple to slide down the side of his cheek.

He used the back of his wrist to wipe it away.

Who was Slade? Who was this man that reminded his terribly of Batman in skills and abilities? In fact, they were better than Batman; those skills were far superior. But one simple fact was absolutely stilling Robin's heart, making unwanted despair rise up in his chest.

Slade was holding back.

"Come now, Robin," said Slade, that teasing smooth tone dripping through the man's voice. "You're going to have to do better than this. I haven't even broken a sweat while you're drenched in it."

Robin gritted his teeth; beginning to grind them furiously. He hated when this man made him feel like a fool. He struggled to his feet. No way he was going to let this man win. Robin would win. _Robin_ would bring him down. _Robin_ would toss him in jail _and_ he'd throw away the key, too.

He just had to win.

Robin darted forward, his adrenaline pushing him forward with everything he had. Once he was upon Slade, he twisted his body into a kick towards the man's head. Slade easily dodged it. Robin threw a punch at the man's masked face, but it was caught in the man's fist.

"Decent technique," commented Slade.

He pulled Robin forward and forced his arm to bend downwards; sending a sharp shooting pain up through his elbow. Robin gasped from the pain before Slade grabbed his cape and tossed him over his shoulder. Robin landed on hard his back, forcing a choking cry to burst from his mouth.

"But you can do better."

Robin gasped on the ground, his breathing terribly erratic. He couldn't get up; just how weak was he? He grabbed his hurting arm and rubbed his elbow for a moment. He saw Slade come into view of his eyesight.

"Why?" gasped Robin through his breathing.

"Why what?"

"Why are you holding back?"

"You're losing now," said Slade with a tilt of his head. "What makes you think you have any chance if I show you all my power?"

"Don't hold back."

"I'll kill you otherwise."

Robin's heart stilled once, then it palpitated in fear. This man was completely different than all the Bat villains. There was something all powerful about him. Why did this man enjoy toying with him like this? If Slade had the power to kill him, then why hadn't he? What were his motives? Why wouldn't he just get rid of him when he had the chance? Didn't the man want destroy the city? With Robin out of the way, it'd be far too easy.

But Robin was beginning to realize that the Teen Titans couldn't stand in this man's way if he _really_ wanted to destroy the city.

So, what did he _really_ want?

"Then, why don't you?" asked Robin, slowly sitting up. He winced as his back ached. He turned, looking up at the man and staring into that crystal blue eye.

"Multiple reasons," answered Slade, his tone softening. But then it hardened. "None of which are any of your concern at this time. Well, maybe one, but that'll come soon. You really shouldn't be so quick to throw your life away."

"I'm not," spat Robin, struggling to stand up. "It's just obvious that you have the power to take me and the Teen Titans down whenever you want. Instead, you prefer to play games with us. What do you really want? Enough with the games, Slade. Tell me what you want!"

"I thought children liked to play games," said Slade, his eye flashing with amusement. Robin clenched his fists, beginning to tremble in his absolute fury.

"_I'm not a child_," snarled Robin, darting forward. He landed a punch to the man's mask. There was a loud resounding _clang_ as his fist connected. Robin quickly twisted his body and landed a kick, sending the man flying to the side. Robin darted forward and snatched up the device; completely ignoring the fact that the man completely let him strike him.

"The games end now, Slade," said Robin, feeling relief pour through him. The people of the city were safe now. He saved them. There was a low chuckle as Slade sat up. A moment later, he was standing.

"No, the game has merely just begun."

The device in Robin's hand crackled with electricity, sending little shocks into his glove. It burst suddenly. Robin gasped, gapping in shock as the shattered remains crumbled in his hand. The pieces fell to the ground.

"Where's the real trigger?" cried Robin, fear pounding in his chest.

"Trigger?" repeated Slade, sounding bemused. "There's no trigger. Why? Well, because—" There was a low chuckle. "—there's no detonator. That was merely the bait for a much larger prize."

"What?" breathed Robin.

"It's simple, really. At this very moment, your dear friends have been infected with nanoscopic probes. You know what those are, right?" Slade lifted his hand; a controller appeared in his hand with a large red button. Four computer screens appeared behind him, each showing the blood stream of the four Titans. "With just the touch of button, I can destroy your little friends from the inside out."

Robin's heart chilled. Then, it began to rapidly pound against his chest. Slade was going after the Teen Titans? What did he hope to gain? The man's thumb was hovering over that red button and Robin saw his four friends flash before his eyes.

_No…_

"You—you can't control them," said Robin as strong as he could, yet his voice wavered. "No matter what you threaten, they won't do—"

"Who said anything about controlling _them?_" asked Slade with a tilt of his head; his hands clasped behind his back. "This isn't about them. It's about you, Robin. It's _always_ been about _you_."

_What…?_

Slade began to slowly circle him.

"We've had a lot of fun, don't you think?" purred Slade with a lift of his hand. "I've left so many cryptic clues for you to figure out. I've sent you so many challenges – don't you see? I was testing you."

"_What?_"

"You've surpassed my expectations, I must say," said Slade in an approving tone. "And so, I've decided. You are to become my… _apprentice_. You're more than qualified for such a position."

"Forget it!" snapped Robin, slicing a hand through the air. "There's nothing in this world that can convince me to work for you—"

Slade lifted the controller in his hand, making Robin stop suddenly; his eyes widening with the terrible realization sinking into the pit of his stomach.

"If you swear to serve me, to be loyal to me, to do whatever I tell you to do, to become my apprentice and my heir; then, I'll let your little friends live," said Slade, his tone darkened and terribly smooth. "But if you disobey me, I might decide that your friends are too much trouble to keep around."

Robin's breath caught in his chest.

"If that becomes the case, then I will annihilate the distraction."

It felt as if Robin's heart collapsed inside his chest. This man was threatening to kill his friends. Not only that, he'd have to obey this man; do what he said, no matter what he said. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening? No… No, it was Robin's fault. He should've seen something like this. He could've prevented this. Once again, his ineptitude was rearing its ugly face.

This was all his fault.

And now, Robin was in the worst position in his entire life; blackmailed to be bonded to this madman for an indefinite amount of time.

"But, truly; I don't wish to be pushed to that edge, Robin," said Slade in a low purr. "You'll be a good boy, won't you?"

Robin stared at the trigger in the man's hand. There was no escaping this. He had to give in. His friends' lives were the most important things to Robin. He couldn't give them up. He needed them more than anything in this world.

_Starfire…_

No, he'd have to give into this man. There was no way he'd sacrifice their lives for his freedom. He wasn't sure what Batman would do, but Robin wasn't Batman. He was his own person and he'd get through this on his own. He didn't need help. He'd beat Slade at the man's own game one way or another.

And if he couldn't…

Then, it was obvious that Robin wasn't fit to be the leader of the Teen Titans.

"Fine… I'll do what you want. Just don't hurt my friends," whispered Robin; thoroughly hating himself even more than he already did.

"That's my boy," purred Slade. Robin wanted to throw up. "This is only the beginning—"

There was the sound of a printer working; interrupting the man. Slade turned towards the source and walked over to it. Robin saw that there were a number of equipment and electronics on the table. The man took the freshly printed paper from the printer and began to read it. There were a few moments where only the sounds of the gears clinked and jangled above.

Then, Robin watched as the man's hands began to tremble, the edges of the paper beginning to crinkle in his grasp. The man turned to glance at him and Robin saw the man's blue eye wide with shock. Then, there was a deep flash of remorse and regret that went through the man's eye.

The man must've learned something completely devastating, because he seemed to lose all control at that point. He reeled slightly, leaning against the table for support. There was a brief moment before Slade struggled to get to a chair that was nearby. He lowered himself down in it and leaned his elbows onto his knees; resting his masked face into his hands.

Robin watched the man with widened eyes beneath his mask. This had to be unusual behavior for the man. His guard was completely dropped. Whatever he just learned was totally overpowering his will for anything.

This was Robin's chance. He could get his friends' lives back. He could get his own life back. He felt a bit bad for attacking the man while his guard was so lowered, but this was a dangerous situation. There was no reason to be chivalrous when the man wasn't.

Robin darted forward. He raised a hand to punch the man – however, the instant his fist reached Slade, the man lifted a hand and caught Robin's in his own. Shock rippled through Robin as he tried to pull away but couldn't. Slade lifted his head and there was sharp emotion flashing through his visible eye. Robin tried his other fist only for it to be caught in the man's other hand.

Trapped in Slade's powerful grasp, Robin struggled against him. But there was a moment where he stilled and watched the man. Slade stood up, his height towering over him. Robin swallowed, fear pulsing through his veins. But then, there was a brief moment where Robin got the fleeting impression that the man actually wanted to pull him into his chest and hug him.

That had to be the _stupidest_ thought to ever cross Robin's mind.

Slade released him, pushing him back a few feet. Then, he set the paper onto the desk. It seemed as if the man's countenance completely changed. Something softened, even. The powerful, evil aura that the man seemed to always have emanating from his presence evaporated completely and was replaced with a relatively normal one. Robin was completely unsettled by this change of feelings.

"You know, I've been watching you for a long time, Robin," said Slade, his voice low and even soft; turning his head to the side, looking down at the ground. "Ever since you were a baby."

"I seriously doubt that," snapped Robin; but he felt completely unnerved. The man's voice had even changed somewhat. It had softened. It was still that smooth, coaxing voice, but it lost its irritating nature that always grated on Robin's nerves.

And watching him since he was a baby? Did that mean that Slade knew of his real identity? Did the man know that he was Dick Grayson?

"Oh, I have," said Slade, a slight chuckle on his tone. "There are a number of reasons that I've watched you. Most of them personal and I don't really wish to go into any of them at this moment."

"What are you, a stalker?" demanded Robin. "Seriously, if I didn't already think you were creepy stuff, you're pushing it to the extreme now."

"I watched you," said Slade, his tone hardening; looking back up at him. "There's a difference. I merely watched you grow up."

"Why the heck would you watch _me?_" asked Robin, his stomach churning. "Why would you even care? It's one thing to keep an eye on me because I'm Batman's partner, but from a baby? Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"Spill `em."

"Robin, you know me too well to think that I would tell you all my reasoning just because you demand it," said Slade, his tone sliding into a condescending version of his voice. Robin growled, hating the sound of this man's voice even more.

"You better come up with something better than that, Slade! Tell me why you've been watching me!"

There was a long moment where Slade didn't answer. Then, there was a tired sigh and a shake of the head.

"I don't know why I did it," said Slade in a soft undertone, almost half to himself. Robin lifted an eyebrow. The man sounded almost sorrowful. "Preparing for this moment, I thought why not. Perhaps, it was wistful wishing, wistful thinking. Never had I imagined that it'd turn out positive. I… I should've tested it sooner."

"What the heck are you talking about?" snapped Robin.

"This," said Slade, lifting his hand and snapping his fingers. A duel screen of DNA sections appeared over the screens of his infected friends. Robin's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the screens. Something wasn't settling right in his stomach and he wasn't sure what that was.

"What is all this?" demanded Robin, swallowing once.

"It's very simple. This is DNA sampling. I took the liberty of getting a sample last time we clashed," said Slade. "Although, the sample I got wasn't the best, it still did the trick."

"Why, so you can find out my identity?" snarled Robin.

"No," said Slade. Robin raised his eyebrow and folded his arms; sending the man the fiercest glare he could. "I already know your identity. How else could I watch you from a _baby?_"

Robin repressed a growl. So, the man _did_ know about him. He was too angry with this man to fully comprehend the implications of that.

"Then, why?"

"I tested it against mine," said Slade, his voice soft. Robin's eyes widened beneath his mask; his heart falling into his chest. _What?_ Why would he…?

Robin's breathing quickened. No, this wasn't happening. The man wasn't about to say what Robin thought he was going to say. This had to be a bad dream. This was something straight out of the movies. _A bad B-Movie_. There was no possible way this could be true.

_Oh gosh, tell me this isn't happening._

"Wh–why would you do that?" asked Robin, his voice shaking. "It's not like we're related or anything. There's no way. No way I'd be related to _you_."

"Oh, there's a way," said Slade, his voice turning softer. "It's positive; meaning we're related. Not only that, we're _closely_ related."

"No, no, _no, no, no,_" murmured Robin, shaking his head. "This isn't happening. This is a _lie_; it has to be! _You're_ _lying!_"

"Come here," commanded Slade. Robin stared at the man. Like bull he was going to obey. But then there was a flicker of light and his eyes caught sight of the infected bodies of his friends. Slowly, his body went into motion. He walked over to Slade; coming to stand a foot in front of the man.

Slade was a tall man compared to him. Robin was five four, which he always felt was pretty short; but against Slade, he felt tiny. The man was bulky in his upper body; the symbol of excellent fitness prevalent throughout his chest. His height had to be a foot taller than Robin which made him have to look up at the man – which he _detested_ doing, since it made him feel like Slade was looking down at him.

"Do you want to try a fresh testing just to prove me wrong?" asked Slade.

_A fresh testing…? Test to see if we're related?_

_No, there's way I'm related to Slade; no way my destiny is intertwined with this man. There can't possibly being any logical reason why I'd be related to this man._

_Set him straight… I have to set this straight. Can't have this hanging over my head. I'll go insane._

_I'll die._

Robin nodded slowly; still somewhat unsure why he was agreeing to this. It seemed completely unreal. Slade fingered for Robin to approach the desk. There were a number of testing objects available. Robin noticed that the man was completely prepared for this. Slade snapped a plastic glove over his hand and grabbed a cheek swab from the table. He turned to Robin and stepped up to him. Robin found himself looking up at the man and his heart began to panic. What the _heck_ was he doing? Was he really doing a DNA testing with this man? What if it was true? What if he really was related to this man?

Then what?

"Swallow and open your mouth," instructed Slade. Robin did so; half obeying, half nervously doing it. He opened his mouth and Slade inserted the cheek swab into his mouth. Robin felt the cotton swab gently brush against the interior of his cheek for a few seconds, before it moved to the edge of his teeth for the same amount of time. Then, Slade withdrew the swab; setting it aside. He did this two more times, until he had three samples.

Robin found himself trembling. Everything was becoming a blur in his mind. He watched as Slade lifted the bottom of his mask and do the same thing he had done with him. Robin caught a glimpse of the man's mouth and saw light blond hair of a goatee lining the edges of his lips.

_Mental note: man's got a goatee – blond hair._

"S–so, what now?" asked Robin, unable to conceal his uneasiness about the whole thing; yet he managed to draw some sarcasm into his tone. "We send it into the lab and they give us the results in five to ten business days?"

"I have more than enough equipment here to do it myself," said Slade, not looking back at Robin.

"That's great and all," drawled Robin, nervously rubbing a hand on his arm. "But somehow, I don't find you trustworthy. Gee, I wonder why."

"You just watched me gather samples from both myself and you," said Slade, glancing back at him for a moment. "There's no messing with the truth."

"You don't speak with truth."

"But I act with it."

"What kind of crap is that? You're a liar."

There was a regretful sigh.

"The truth is merely that I wish I had found this out over fourteen years ago."

_Huh…?_

The man went silent as he worked on the samples. Robin watched him; shock and intrigue settling into his heart. What if? What if it was true? What if the very man that stood in front of him was a relation? What if it was worse? What if Slade was…

What if Slade was his father?

The very thought of that made Robin's mouth go dry. That had to be crazy, though. There was no way Slade could be his _father_. How crazy was that? No way his mother would be interested in a psychopath like this guy.

But the way Slade talked, it almost sounded like he wished that he was Robin's father. But just who was Slade? Why would he want to be a father? _His_ father? Surely that didn't fit into whatever crazy plans he had for the city. If he had been Robin's father, then he would've been raised by him instead of Batman. Man, that was a frightening thought.

But…

What would've life had been like if Robin had had a father?

Robin was suddenly overcome with a deep emotion of desire – desire for a _living, breathing_ father. It startled him terribly and he had to turn his head to the side; heavily working on controlling himself. He took deep calming breaths as best as he could.

He didn't need a father and he _especially_ didn't need a living, biological father in the form of the _criminal_ Slade. He was sixteen years old. He had lived eight years without a real father. Sure he'd had Batman and Alfred, but Batman wasn't his father. Robin hadn't ever been able to imagine the man as such. He was more like a mentor, a teacher – someone he looked up to and admired. But he didn't feel any paternal connections with the man.

What now? Was he supposed to feel paternal connections to Slade if the man was truly his real father? Was that a joke? What the heck? No way. Robin would never accept the man as his _family_. What kind of crap was that? Just because he sired him didn't mean anything. It's not like anything would change between them. Slade would probably still blackmail him to be his apprentice; still threaten the lives of his friends.

_Oh, yeah._ Wonderful father and son bonding right there.

"It's finished," said Slade, turning to the side and looking back at Robin. He motioned to the equipment. "See for yourself."

Robin's lips trembled as he stepped forward. The equipment was attached to a computer. The screen of the computer held a list of results on it. Robin's eyes skimmed the contents quickly; somehow praying in his heart that all this was a bad joke and that the two of them would go back to being simply Slade and Robin – Hero and Villain, enemies with no connections whatsoever.

And yet there was another hidden, buried prayer in his heart that completely ruled out all logical thoughts.

"_DNA results show paternal connection with the child. Subject S is the immediate paternal parent to Subject R."_

Robin's heart fell into his stomach. His mouth went dry while the palms of his hands became damp with sweat inside his gloves. His hands dropped to the edge of the desk; dumping all his weight onto them. He stared at those traitorous words that were telling him something insane; something that changed everything that he ever knew; something that changed his very thinking of who he was.

It was true. There were no lies here. The computer wasn't wrong; it couldn't lie. And Robin had watched Slade do the testing. There was no trickery here.

The truth was a traitor.

Robin glanced back at Slade, somehow half looking to the man for answers and half seeking for confirmation. A soft light flickered through the man's crystal blue eye. Robin's gaze sunk deep into that light. It was then that he recognized the man's eye. It was so similar to his own pair – almost identical. It was just a little older, and yet the light that lay within was the same.

Then, a wave of acknowledgement flooded over him.

He had the man's eyes.

Robin gasped, placing a hand over his mouth; feeling sick. Oh gosh, he had the man's eyes. Slade really was his father. Holy crap, how the heck did something like this happen? How with all possible destinies in the world could this have happened? There was no way his mother would've ever been with this man. That had to be the most ridiculous thing ever.

Oh, no.

Oh, _no_. Was Robin conceived out of power and hate? There was no way there could've ever been _love_ between this man and his mother. What if it had happened in some dreadful way?

Tears seeped from his scrunched eyes. This was too much. This was horrible. He was sired by a terrible man. His mother had probably been taken advantage. The realization that something like that could've happened to his precious mother was just too horrific to even imagine. Robin's stomach turned. He suddenly felt a wave of nausea lift through his throat. He doubled over; his stomach fluids pouring from his mouth to the floor. He coughed and spluttered; grimacing at the terrible acidic taste in his mouth. His eyes watered with burning tears and his throat screamed in protest; completely raw from the acid.

He felt a hand on his back, rubbing it in a soothing motion. Oh gosh, that just made it worse. He didn't want that man touching him. He didn't want to be near him. How dare the man even attempt to comfort him. This was all his fault. This awful man was going to pollute Robin with his touch.

But Robin didn't have the energy to shrug him off. He was stuck, hating that hand with every fiber of his entire being; nearly shuddering under its touch.

Finally, through the coughing and choking, Robin spoke with revulsion, "_Don't touch me_."

The hand complied with his wishes and Robin found himself overwhelmingly thankful. He wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, uncaring that he was soiling his suit. He swallowed once, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth. He ignored the mess he created on Slade's floor and he turned around; giving the man a glare like none before.

"How the _freaking heck_ are you my father?" demanded Robin icily, lifting the back of his hand to his mouth as another wave of sickness wafted over him. "How the _heck_ did that happen?"

There was a long moment of silence between them. The only sounds that lifted through the air were the grinding, clinking noise of the gears that turned above.

"I was married to your mother, Mary," said Slade in a soft undertone.

Robin reeled. His hand slipped against the desk for a brief moment as he tried to gain his balance. He rested there for a few moments before he could get a handle on himself. _Married?_ Then, that would mean… That would mean…

Subtle relief began to flow over him. Somehow, the complete disdain, distaste, and revulsion that had threatened to consume him moments ago were washed away by that answer. Somehow, he trusted those words. Wasn't Slade one to rub in awful information if he had it. If he was really saying that he was married to Mary, then maybe it was really true. Then again, this still could be Slade's plan to sway his heart.

But Robin wanted that fact to be true. He couldn't bear the thought that his mother had suffered an evil fate. He much rather believe that Slade was telling the truth here. His mother hadn't suffered – that's all that mattered. Peace settled inside his heart. But then, he looked up at Slade; his eyes widening.

That meant that his mother had loved Slade. It would also suggest that Slade, in return, had loved her. They had been married. They had been a family in a way. But if all that was true, what had happened? Robin could only remember John Grayson. He'd been the only father in Robin's young life. What had happened?

"How?" whispered Robin.

Slade sighed. "It's a long story."

"Most stories are," retorted Robin. Bitterness began to rise in his chest. His mind completely ignored the fact that Slade was a criminal. If this man was supposed to be his father, then where the freaking heck had he been all these years? Had he abandoned his wife and child? What, were the two of them not good enough for him or something?

"That's true," nodded Slade. "The question is: do you have the patience to listen right now?"

"What, you have this long winded, sad tale to spin?" drawled Robin, irritation and bitterness dripping through his tone. "You want some father and son bonding to happen? News flash, Slade: I seriously doubt _normal_ fathers blackmail their sons with the _lives_ of their friends!"

"I suppose you're right," said Slade in a considering tone; nodding once again. "There's no way we can come to any understanding in this situation."

"Who says I _want_ any understanding with _you?_" snapped Robin.

"You don't?" asked Slade, a lilt in his tone. He tilted his head to the side, observing him. Robin jerked his head away, his chest heaving once in a rough exhale of breath. His thoughts flittered through his mind quickly as he contemplated the implications of all this.

Hadn't he always wanted to learn about this man? Ever since Slade had shown up in his life, he had been obsessed with figuring out the man. He was the ultimate of enigma. Nothing Robin did could shed the tiniest of lights on him. Moments ago, he would've given anything to learn something, _anything_ about Slade – even one tiny little detail; _anything_ that could shed a glimmer of light on the man. But now with the change of events, did he honestly still want to know more about Slade?

And was the man offering up the information?

"I _might_," said Robin grudgingly, turning to look back at Slade. An approving light entered the man's crystal blue eye.

"Then, I'll make you a deal," said Slade, lifting the controller of the probes into view. Robin stiffened; glaring at the controller that held the lives of his four friends in a teetering balance.

"You agree to come visit me three times a week and I'll remove the probes from your friends' bodies."

Robin's eyes widened, shock rippling through him. The man was offering to dismantle his original plan? He was going to let Robin go? Did he really want to reconcile that much with him? Surely whatever criminal plans the man had were more important.

But… That light in Slade's eye was telling Robin that he was completely serious.

Was Slade really offering such trust in him? Robin had done so many things that destroyed trust. Despite being a hero, Robin didn't even feel trustworthy anymore. He hated himself for that. He had shattered his friends' trust when he had donned the Red X suit and Slade himself had obviously hadn't trusted Red X with any of his plans.

But for Slade to offer this… This was a leap of faith. Slade was putting faith into the fact that Robin would come back even after his friends were out of danger.

"You wouldn't have to be my apprentice either," continued Slade. "If you agree to this, I'll be less inclined towards any of my normal nefarious deeds."

Ah, there was the Slade that Robin knew and hated.

But it was still an interesting idea – an interesting offer. Would Robin really agree to this? He'd have to visit this man three times a week. How long would he have to stay?

"Might go on a little hiatus, so to speak," said Slade with an offhanded wave of his hand. Then, the light in his visible eye turned powerful. "In fact, I give you my word. Three times a week, no criminal activity. I'll swear to it."

Robin's eyes widened. Slade was truly serious about this. But why? What was Slade's angle; his motives? Why would Robin simply visiting him curb the man's criminal activities? What was he playing at? Not only that, what the heck would they do? What was Slade expecting from him? Perhaps, Slade would try to teach him things? Or maybe would he tell him about his mother?

His mother…

Robin suddenly had an overwhelming desire to hear more about his mother. If this man had married her, then maybe he even had pictures of her – pictures Robin had never seen before. Maybe he had stories about her that Robin had never heard of before. Would the man offer up such information easily? Or would Robin have to do something he wouldn't like in trade for such things?

"You've always been desperate to find more about me, haven't you?" said Slade, his voice sliding into his usual smooth tone. "Now's your chance. You'll have my undivided voice and attention. It's an opportunity that you really can't miss."

"This is still blackmail, you know," pointed out Robin; although, he was still heavily considering it.

Slade shrugged. "True, but at least you don't have to worry about the lives of your friends nor be my apprentice. Otherwise, I'll probably be more inclined to stick with the original plan."

And Slade sticks with his blackmail guns. Leave it to the man to make sure Robin would agree one way or another.

It couldn't be _too_ bad, could it? He'd learn things about Slade; he learn about his mother. Then, when the time came, Robin could slam the man straight to jail for all the terrible things he had done. He completely ignored the fact that the man was obviously far more powerful than him. No, Slade might think he was the one holding all the cards, but Robin would show him that he didn't own the city. Robin was its protector and protect it he would.

It didn't matter if this madman was his real father.

"I'll agree on one condition," said Robin, folding his arms stubbornly. "You remove your mask. I want to see your face."

Slade seemed surprised by the request. His crystal blue eye widened within the sea of orange in his mask. His posture shifted slightly and for a moment, it seemed that Slade was considering Robin's request.

"I'll agree with a counter request. You remove your mask as well."

"No way," said Robin, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head vehemently. "No way in heck am I doing that."

"I already know your identity," said Slade in a pointing tone. "It really shouldn't matter that much. I just want to see your eyes. I want to see… my son's face."

Bile rose up in his chest and he quickly turned away. He had to take a calming breath as mixed feelings rose inside his heart from hearing that. He began to walk towards the exit of the haunt, slowly walking up the stairs to the door. Without looking back, he spoke up.

"I'm not your son."

There was another moment of silence as Robin stood in the open doorframe that he had blasted open before. He took a deep breath. Was he about to fall into the greatest trap of all?

"But I'll be here tomorrow night."

….….…

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Three: Growing Lies – As the lies begin to build, Robin finds he cannot tell his friends the truth. Robin sneaks out of the tower to keep his assigned meeting with Slade and finds some interesting things that begins to open his eyes.

**Author's Notes:** Hehehe, this is a new twist, hm? Haha, some of ya'll expected it, no? It's so rare to see these type of stories with Robin and Slade; and most, if not all, are unfinished. But there's a consistent theme with them that I also don't like; so, hopefully I'll set a new theme.

I'll try to update again soon. ^^ Chapter three isn't written yet, but I do know where I'm going with it. Yup…

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	3. Growing Lies

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews and support! I'm so honored that you guys have such confidence in me. O.O ^-^

So, as I'm not as completely organized with this story as I am with _Forgotten Bonds_, this chapter has a different title since while writing it out, things played out that I wasn't really expecting.

So, you know in the warnings I told you about another undisclosed pairing. Well, it's now safe to say that the pairing is Slade/Mary. I'm excited for it, too. ^-^ I don't think I've really seen any true romantic writings with Slade in it. I think it'll be interesting. Hehe!

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Growing Lies**

_Now what?_

_What do I do now?_

Robin's chest heaved deeply as he breathed. He had agreed. He had actually agreed to visit the psycho three times a week on the premise that the man would stop threatening the city. What had possessed him to do such a thing? _Visiting_ Slade? What kind of crap nonsense was that?

Would Slade keep his word?

Would Robin?

Robin leaned his head against the wall that was behind his bed; breathing in deeply again. What was he supposed to tell his friends? They'll be expecting him to say _something_. He was their leader. Just what was he going to tell them? He told them to give him some time first; but they were probably waiting impatiently for him to debrief them. Would he tell them the truth?

The truth…

What the _heck_ was he supposed to say to them?

"_Oh, yeah. Slade tried to blackmail me into being his apprentice with your lives. But he totally decided not to when he learned he was my father. Oh, yeah. Did I mention that? Slade's my pop."_

_Suuure_, that'd go over just _perfectly_.

If Robin thought they didn't trust him very much now, just what would they think if they learned that? He was the man's _son_. If he learned that one of his team members was the child of a villain and had done what he'd done – don an alter ego of a criminal to find out about said villain – Robin would have a very hard time trusting that team member.

So, in essence, Robin wouldn't be able to trust himself.

He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs; dropping his face into his knees. His shoulders began to shudder, yet there were no tears nor sobs.

He was the son of a criminal – not just any criminal; Slade.

_Slade._

Why'd it have to be him? Heck, at that moment, Robin was heavily wishing that the crazed Joker was his father. But then, Robin would probably admit himself to a mental institution in the worry about going completely insane like him.

Why was it Slade? Why had his mother chosen him? What kind of destiny played out that would lead the two of them together? What had drawn her to the man? Was he handsome or something? Was that it? Could physical attraction completely negate all reasoning? Wasn't Slade a criminal?

But Robin hated himself for thinking like that. His mother had been amazing. She had been beautiful. She wasn't shallow. Robin could never remember her ever disliking someone for what they looked like. She never judged people. She was the kindest woman Robin had ever known, next to Starfire.

She had always taught him to give people the benefit of the doubt; to never judge someone by their background, their color, their race. She always taught him that all people were just that – people. Everyone deserved a chance.

Robin was giving Slade that chance, wasn't he? By accepting the deal, Robin was subconsciously giving the man a chance to explain himself. The simple knowledge that Slade was his father was enough to shake his very core; the obsession fading slightly to be replaced with the sincere feeling of wanting the truth.

Robin wanted to know the truth.

His heart was already changing; Robin could feel it. He was already becoming swayed. Deep down Robin had always wanted his life back with his parents. Sure he loved what he did now, but the price he had to pay to get to this level had been too high.

Deep within the cavernous sections of his heart, Robin really wanted a father. He needed that support. Eight years; eight years he had to live without a father. Batman had been there for him, but he never rose up to take the place of his father – the man never tried to fill that void.

Perhaps he was being careful, thoughtful, or just plain hesitant; but Robin sometimes had wished that Batman had tried to do so.

But there was no changing the past. Robin had done just fine without a father all these years. He wasn't that desperate enough to cling to some crackpot that popped out of nowhere with the claims of being his father.

This was _Slade_, after all. Robin had to tread very carefully around him. This could very well be one of the man's sinister plots. If Robin couldn't even trust _himself_, what made him think that he'd ever learn to trust Slade?

Robin spent most of the early morning brooding, thinking on what he should do next. He might've dozed some, but for the most part, he stayed awake; unable to sleep. He was exhausted, yet sleep wouldn't come. Robin was especially afraid of what nightmares would come to plague him next due to his recent acquired knowledge.

He didn't surface when the sunlight of the morning began to spill through his window. He still couldn't bear the thought of facing his friends. Maybe if he stayed in his room all day, they wouldn't try to disturb him.

Fat chance that'd be.

Robin's stomach growled once around two in the afternoon, but he still didn't emerge from his room. It was sometime afterwards that he heard the commotion outside his door. He tensed, wondering if Slade was already breaking his promise.

"Star, you should leave him alone," came Cyborg's strained voice. "No, don't knock."

"But I am worried," came Starfire's voice. Robin's chest tightened as his stomach churned. "He has not joined us in the partaking of the breakfast and I fear that he will miss in partaking of the lunch with us."

"Maybe he wants some space?" suggested Beast Boy.

"He did look stressed afterwards," came Raven's whispered voice. "He's not telling us something, I think."

Crap.

All of them were outside his door?

Robin closed his eyes, wishing he could crawl beneath the covers and hide for a few years.

But he couldn't. There was no rest for him. He had to tell them something – anything. He just hoped that Raven wouldn't notice that he wasn't telling the truth.

The truth was too difficult at that moment.

"But I still think—"

Robin's door slid open with Robin standing in the doorway. Each of his friends flushed at his sudden appearance. Cyborg was holding onto Starfire's wrist, trying to stop her from knocking, but her inhuman strength wasn't phased at all by him.

"Hey, guys," said Robin, trying to sound pleasant. There was a conflicting churning inside his stomach that was telling him otherwise, however. The group quickly assembled themselves, each still flushing slightly. The girls were the first to recover.

"It is glorious to see you, Robin," said Starfire, her face glowing in a bright smile. "I hope you are well."

"I'm doing just fine," said Robin. Unfortunately it came out a bit stiff. Raven narrowed her eyes.

"Robin, are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh, yeah," said Robin nonchalantly, giving the girl a shrug. "I think I just was a bit worn out."

Robin gave a fake yawn, stretching a bit.

"In fact, guys; I still might be a little tired."

"Uh, but we were kinda hoping you would tell us what happened after your fight with Cinderblock," said Beast Boy, looking up at him with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

"Oh, yeah."

Robin's heart pounded loudly inside his chest.

"After I defeated Cinderblock, I got a lead to where Slade was."

His pounding heart drowned out all hearing; the blood roaring inside Robin's ears.

"Lead was a dud. Came up nothing. I looked and looked, but nothing."

All sound evaporated as Robin waited for a response.

Cyborg was the first to bring sound back to Robin's world. There was a small sigh of confusion from his friend and a shake of his head.

"I can't understand it," said Cyborg. "The detonator was a fake, too. What's up with Slade?"

"Maybe he really was just messing with us," said Beast Boy. "Maybe the guy really was just playing a game with us."

"There's only one term for that," said Raven in her deadpan voice. "That's just plain freaky."

Robin raised an eyebrow at Raven's unusual statement. The other boys looked a little surprised by the girl's comment as well. Seeing the group's confusion, Raven rolled her eyes.

"It's disturbing to think that Slade would enjoy messing with us like that," continued Raven.

"But the guy doesn't seem like the type to enjoy these kinds of games," said Cyborg with a shake of his head. "I mean, I'd expect this kind of stuff from that magician dude, Mumbo Jumbo, or that British wannabe, Mad Mod; but Slade? Just doesn't make sense."

"I feel like we are overlooking something important," said Starfire.

Robin's mouth went dry, his heart thumping even faster inside his chest. He thought it was going explode. He needed to be alone. He couldn't handle all this talk about Slade's motives. He'd crack no doubt. The pressure of holding back the secrets of his heart would cause him to crack.

His friends would never understand; that much Robin knew in his mind.

"Hey, guys; I'm gonna rest a little more," said Robin, pointing inside his room. "I'll see you guys later."

"But what about the partaking of the lunch together?" asked Starfire, looking worried.

"I'm not hungry."

The door slid closed, leaving Robin is the dimmed lighting of his room. His stomach rumbled deeply. With a sigh, Robin leaned his forehead against the cool steel surface of his door.

Just how many more lies was he going to bury himself under? Just how many more times was he going to tell his friends yet another untruth; trapping himself in yet another web of deceit? The burden of his lies were bearing terribly on his back, making him psychologically hunch over beneath its weight.

How was he supposed to lead this team if he couldn't even trust himself to speak the truth about the little things? Why did he hold back? Why couldn't he just say he wasn't feeling good or that he just didn't feel like eating with them?

Why did he just lie?

His heart twisted inside his chest.

Was he really Slade's son? Beast Boy had compared him to the man; was he really like him? Was he really someone who was a deceitful person, one shadowed with lies?

A dry sob broke from Robin's lips. He quickly bit his lower lip, holding it back. He wouldn't cry. There were no tears. He was too old for that kind of crap. He had to remain strong. No matter how hard things got, Batman never cried or showed weakness. Robin couldn't let weakness settle inside his heart.

No matter how horrible a person he was turning out to be.

He was hungry, but he didn't leave his room. He was exhausted, but he didn't sleep. The only thing he did was watch the clock tick the hours away. It was around eight o`clock at night that he started to move. He promised the man he would come tonight. He was going to keep that promise. No matter how many lies he told, he would at least keep this promise.

For the people of the city.

Robin rolled off his bed, walking into his bathroom. He took a quick shower, turning the warm water as hot as he could stand it; almost in the attempt to burn away the horrible feeling that was rising in his soul.

Finally, he got out of the shower, no longer able to stand it anymore. After drying off and with a towel wrapped around his waist, he stared at his reflection in the slightly fogged mirror. Even through the fog, Robin could see them all too well; that pair of haunting crystal blue eyes.

He was going to have to show Slade his face.

That was the agreement. Slade would show him his face; Robin was to do the same.

But taking the mask off meant that he wasn't Robin anymore. He was Richard or Dick, that gypsy orphaned boy that had grown up in a circus.

This was going to be so much harder than Robin had ever imagined.

Robin quickly got dressed. But instead of his usual Kevlar suit, he wore civilian clothes. Somehow, he didn't want to go tonight wearing his suit. He wanted a clean slate; remove the sin of his lies. He didn't feel worthy wearing that suit anymore, not after keeping this from his friends – at least not while he was going to visit Slade.

He'd still bring his utility belt, though.

Robin slipped into a pair of dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. He grabbed a light blue jacket and put it on, covering the utility belt that was around his waist. He left his hair ungelled, the damp bangs of his raven black hair dangling just over his eyes. Robin glanced at the domino mask that laid on his bedside end table. Ignoring the apprehensive feeling that was rising inside his chest, he pulled out a pair of black sunglasses from his drawer and hid his eyes beneath their cover.

He plugged his hands into the pockets of his jacket. With one final glance through his room, he walked to his door.

He was really doing this; he was really going to see Slade. He was really going to keep this promise. He really wasn't going to tell his friends about it. He really was lying to them. Robin wasn't sure how much more he could take of the twisting feeling his heart was currently going through.

His bedroom door opened and he walked into the hallway. He quietly walked down the hall, keeping his footsteps silent. Then, he turned the corner.

"Robin…?"

Robin froze. He slowly closed his eyes beneath his sunglasses.

Of all the Titans to see him leave, it had to be _her_ – the one he couldn't resist, the one he couldn't deny. What was he going to tell _her?_ Why did he have to bump into _her?_

"H–hey, Star," said Robin, his mouth going dry. Starfire was standing in front of him with an extremely curious look on her face as she observed him.

"Robin… I have never seen you wear other clothes," said Starfire, tilting her head slightly as she continued to study him. Robin felt his face flush slightly from the way she was looking at him.

"Aha, yeah…"

"What is the occasion for such a change?"

Robin swallowed, his dry throat protesting heavily against the action. He glanced downward, praying that he could get through this.

"I needed some fresh air."

"Oh! Shall I accompany you?"

Robin's heart sunk. He didn't want to reject her. That very thought made Robin sick to his stomach. Why couldn't he have left just a few moments later? Then, their paths wouldn't have crossed. He hated himself; there was no doubt about it now.

Robin hated himself.

"Um… I kinda need to be alone right now," said Robin, his voice low as his heart continued to twist violently in his chest.

"Oh…"

She sounded so disappointed. Dang it; she sounded _so_ disappointed.

"Robin." Robin glanced up, a little startled to see Starfire so close to him. There was a deep look of concern within her kind face. "Is everything all right?"

Was everything all right?

No, everything was _not_ all right. He was lying left and right to his friends, trying to hide every terrible, dark secret of his heart; not to mention he just learned that he was the biological son of the local sociopath.

Oh yeah, sure; everything was just _perfect_.

But could he tell her? No, there was no way he could tell even Starfire the dark secrets of his heart. His options were terrible ones. What would his friends say if they knew Slade was his real father and that he made a deal with the man so that he'd stop the criminal activity? What would they think if they knew the deal was to _visit_ the man so many times a week? Would he tell them the man tried to blackmail him with their lives? Would he tell them the mixed torrent of feelings that were currently raging inside his chest?

Just who was he?

Could he really place his trust in them? Would they look at him differently? Would they trust him more or would they trust him less? If he told them, it showed that he was placing full trust in them.

But what if they threw it back at him when they learned something so terrible about him?

If he didn't tell them, then that showed he didn't trust them. What would they say when they did find out? Would their friendship be completely destroyed, never to be repaired once again?

Just where was he supposed to place his trust?

He couldn't even trust himself. He wasn't worthy of such things anymore. He couldn't protect Jump City from Slade. He was weak. Slade had the upper hand. Robin was still playing in his hands. Robin was only appeasing the man to protect the city; it was still basically blackmail.

Robin wasn't doing anything in his own power to save them.

If or when Slade got bored with the arrangement, the city was in danger once again. Robin would be powerless against him – that much Robin knew all too terribly well.

What would Batman do in a situation like this?

What would… John Grayson do in a situation like this?

There was no one he could depend on.

"I'm fine, Star," lied Robin. "I just need a little time, okay?"

Starfire looked saddened, her soft monochromatic green eyes looking so dejectedly at him. Robin's entire being fought against the overwhelming force that was threatening his body with total trembling.

"All right," said Starfire, her voice soft.

"I'll see you later, Star. Thanks," said Robin, walking past her with his head down. Then, he broke into a run. He had to get out of here – as quickly as possible; before he went insane; before he had to bury his entire being in his terrible burden.

He hated these secrets. Batman was the master at keeping secrets. Robin had long learned how to hack into the Bat computer for information. That, of course, got him into terrible, _terrible_ trouble with the Dark Knight; but he hadn't cared. He had always hated it when Batman kept secrets from him, swearing that he'd never do it.

And here he was, doing the same exact thing he had sworn never to do. Was he losing his humanity already?

Once he was out of the tower, he took a deep breath; breathing in the salty air of the bay of Jump City. It was a refreshing smell. It always brought him clarity of mind, but tonight there was no clarity.

Just fog over the bay; almost in symbolism of the fog of his mind and heart.

As he walked the streets of downtown Jump City, he noticed that he looked like every other citizen. Since he was wearing civilian clothes, he wasn't recognized. It had been a long time since he felt something like this.

But no matter the outer appearance, he was still the same Robin that was lying to his teammates.

It was soon that he found himself glaring at the door of Slade's haunt – the very same door that he had blasted just the night before. However much he was glaring at that repaired door, there was newfound panic rising inside his chest.

Just what the heck was he doing here?

Second thoughts were overwhelming his entire soul. He shouldn't be here. He should've at least told Starfire where he was going, what he was planning to do. There were so many things he should've done. He should've told them he was hungry. He should've told them that he had met Slade. With every part of his heart, he should've relied on someone other than himself.

But after eight years of getting used to relying on himself, it was hard to break the habit.

Robin was about to knock on the door, figuring it'd probably be better than blasting through the door like last night, when it slid open. Robin had to take a step back in surprise.

Slade stood in the doorway.

But what was shocking Robin the most was the man's appearance. He still wore the two toned metal mask, but his clothes were not his usual Kevlar suit. The man wore dark classic style Levi's; a black belt with a silver buckle around his waist. He wore a light blue, pinstripe collared shirt with a dark grey suit vest.

The only thing that reminded Robin that this man was Slade was the mask he still wore and the two toned black and orange tie at his neck.

"How—"

"I have cameras."

Robin didn't bite his lip, no matter how much he wanted to at that very moment. He was really here. He was really coming to _see_ Slade. What were they going to do – _talk over tea?!_

"Come in," said Slade, his voice even. Robin found his palms sweating in his panic. But he tried to put on an uncaring air as he strode inside. He was about to step down the stairs when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he stiffened from the touch.

"Not that way. We're going upstairs."

The hand withdrew and Robin turned around to see stairs sliding into place from out of the wall, going upwards into the midst of more gears. He tried to control his trembling. He liked being touched sometimes, but he wasn't used to it. For the man to so easily touch him like that, it startled him. It frightened him, too. It was too familiar. Even during his time with Batman, the man never showed that kind of familiarity.

Such simple, easy familiarity with adults had long died with Robin's parents.

Robin placed a hand on the wall as he followed up the stairs after Slade. He glanced back to see the stairs sliding back into the wall after he left each one. At the top, Slade opened a door and led Robin inside. With the door shut behind him, all sounds of the clinking, grinding gears were silenced immediately.

Robin felt clammy. He swallowed nervously, unconsciously rubbing a hand on his arm. He looked around the room and was once again surprised.

He was inside a combination of a kitchen and family room. Everything looked bright and clean. There were a few white cabinets towards the back of the room, where the kitchen resided. It was a fully furnished kitchen, complete with a white fridge and a stove. There was even a microwave. An island separated the family room from the kitchen, with a round wooden table in front of the island.

The family room had a light brown three seat sofa with a single brown armchair to the side. There was a glass coffee table in front the sofa with a few miscellaneous things like a couple of magazines, a book or two, and TV remote. There was a television set on a wooden desk at the end wall near the door.

Robin was overcome with how _normal_ it looked.

"Are you hungry?" asked Slade, walking past him. Robin's stomach automatically responded to the thought of food. He hadn't eaten all day. He wrapped a single arm around his waist and turned his head away.

"No."

_Another lie_.

"I'm not deaf, boy," said Slade, a light chuckle escaping into the room. "Sounds like your body is more truthful than your mouth."

Robin stiffened.

"Well, I really don't think I wanna eat anything you have to offer," snapped Robin, irritably whipping his head up to glare at the man from behind his dark sunglasses.

"That's better," said Slade, pulling out a few things from the fridge. Robin growled under his breath as he stepped into the room more. Slade threw a number of things onto the middle countertop. Robin raised his eyebrow as he watched the amount pile up with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, sliced deli meat, cheese, mayo, ketchup, and bread. Robin continued to walk closer to the island until he was standing right in front.

Then, Slade placed plates onto the countertop. He waved a hand over everything.

"Take your pick."

"Huh?"

"I said take you pick," said Slade with an amused tone. "Make your own. Pretty self explanatory here, lad."

_Make your own? Slade's seriously telling me to eat his food?_

Slade went into motion and Robin watched as the man made his own sandwich, using the whole wheat bread instead of the white bread. The man choose a mixture of ham and turkey, plenty in amount, and little cheese. He used a small amount of mayo and also placed a healthy amount of pickles. He took a few slices of tomatoes and a handful of lettuce.

Robin could only watch, stunned.

Why it had never crossed his mind that Slade was a person that had to _eat_ for sustenance, he would never know. But watching the man make his own sandwich, with glaring obvious preferences, was seriously startling to Robin's system.

"Well, go on," said Slade, waving to the ingredients. "I know you're hungry."

Robin obeyed, for lack of anything else to say in argument to this. He couldn't help but wonder if the man had drugged the food. But Slade had made his own sandwich. Robin wouldn't dare touch it before Slade took a bite. There was no telling what this man could do.

So, Robin choose white bread, ketchup, turkey, cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes.

Everything felt surreal. This had to insane, crazy; absolutely the most bizarre, strangest thing Robin had ever experienced. He was making a sandwich… in Slade's kitchen. He felt odd and uncomfortable, unable to know what to expect. He felt completely awkward, too, with the man. In one sense, this man was the criminal that he had been so obsessed with taking down.

But in the other sense, this man was supposedly his father.

After Slade was finished assembling his sandwich, he stopped for a moment. Robin wasn't about to touch his own without knowing the man had eaten his first. What Robin had forgotten was the fact that the man would have to remove his mask to eat.

Which is exactly what the man did.

Robin's eyes widened as he watched Slade lift a hand to the metal mask and pull it off. There was no stopping him, Robin stared – stared into the face he had been so determined to unmask, and yet here it was so easily removed.

The first thing Robin noticed was that Slade had a black eye patch over his right eye – the same section that the black covered in his mask. The man looked to be in his late thirties to early forties, with high cheekbones and a prominent jaw line. He had short curly blond hair and a blond goatee that lined the edges of his mouth and chin.

Then, there was that crystal blue eye that looked so much liked Robin's pair.

There were glimpses within the man's appearance that reminded Robin of himself at times. It was subtle and vague, but it was there. Robin supposed that he got more of his mother in his appearance. But seeing the man's face, Robin was more sure of it.

He was Slade's son.

It was a frighteningly sobering moment for Robin. He wasn't just seeing it in print; he wasn't just hearing it about it in voice; he was seeing the evidence right before his very eyes in the form of genetics.

He had never been John Grayson's son. He had never truly looked like that man. Even the man's grey blue eyes had been different. But Slade's single eye was an exact match to Robin's pair.

Gosh, Robin felt like crying at that very moment. There was a terrible wave of emotion that tore over his entire soul. Then, he saw the expectant, almost wry look on the man's face that was clearly telling him to take off his sunglasses. But if Robin did that, then all the emotion that was flooding through him would be perfectly readable.

He slowly lifted a hand to his sunglasses and took them off, keeping his gaze downwards. He quickly took a bite of his sandwich, completely ignoring the fact that Slade hadn't first taken a bite of his own sandwich. Saliva built up in Robin's mouth and it wasn't because he was eating. His emotions were building up even more; rising to the ultimate cliff in its power.

He refused to cry.

And yet, sometimes the hormonal and bodily needs from continual lack of sleep and lack of food can break down one's protective barriers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the single tear that slipped down his face. He ignored it, pretending it wasn't there; continuing to eat his fill of his sandwich.

Yet another one slipped through his defenses, unwanted, unbidden, yet long locked inside.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Four: Wisdom of the Past – Slade reveals some of the tales of the past about him and Mary, even showing relics from their past.

**Author's Notes:** Wheeh… This story is turning out a little more powerful than I thought it would. What was merely a little plot bunny is turning out way more than I could've imagined. XD

Should be fun.

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	4. Wisdom of the Past

**Author's Note:** Thanks a bunch for the helpful reviews! ^^ I'm glad that you're all enjoying it! ^_^

As with everything in life, writing is something that takes time and effort to develop. I've been writing for years and I only believe that I've truly improved within the past year or so. So, for all aspiring writers, time, work, effort, and great desire will help you achieve greatness. ^^

That's an excellent idea, **Swallow Tale**. I'll definitely try to weave that into the story.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Wisdom of the Past**

Only halfway through his sandwich and the tears were overflowing; streaming down his cheeks in deep waves. Robin kept his head down, unable to stop them; wishing that Slade wasn't the witness of his complete breakdown. It felt as if everything he had kept bottled up inside was pouring out of his soul.

He was weak.

He was a liar.

He was hungry.

He was exhausted.

He was the son of a criminal.

All he could do at that moment was swallow the sandwich that was laced with his tears. Why did he have to break down now, _here_ of all places? Why'd it have to be in front of _him?_ Anyone else would've been better. _Anyone_. Why'd it have to be Slade?

Robin finished sandwich, his breathing erratic and his chest heaving as he tried to regain his control. But it seemed as if it just wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Everything was just too much for him now. He was being crushed by all his faults, all the horrible lies that he had built around himself; just to protect himself.

But it wasn't protecting him at all; it was killing him.

Robin kept his head ducked, his hands clenched into fists as they were rested against the countertop. His shoulders were shuddering, racking beneath his silent cries. The hot beads of his tears continually streamed down his cheeks. Gosh, he felt such like a girl. He hated when this happened to him. Why couldn't he stop these tears—these _freaking tears?!_

Shame beyond anything he had ever felt rose up inside his entire being. He was at his weakest point at that very moment – he hadn't reached this low in eight years since his parents' deaths. And his weakest moment had an audience of one; and that one just _had_ to be _him_.

_No, no, no!_

_Why'd one have to happen now? Why is this happening now? Why can't I ever control these?!_

Something slid into his sights. It was a box of tissues. Robin jerked his head to the side, avoiding it; his shoulders shuddering even more in their racking state. The box followed his head movement.

"I don't need it," snapped Robin, his voice choked and hoarse. Ugh, Robin _hated_ just how weak his voice sounded at that moment.

"Really? Should I get a mirror?"

"_Shut up_."

"It's just tissues, Robin. Use them."

There was the sound of a tissue being pulled from the box as Robin did so. He pulled out another; and another. The tissues became soaked in his overwhelming wave of tears. But why couldn't his sobs be stopped? Why couldn't he ever control these awful weak moments? Why couldn't he have full and complete control over himself like Batman? Why couldn't he be a hard brick with his emotions; unbending and resilient.

And why was he losing it in this man's kitchen?!

Robin immediately tensed as he felt hands gently clasp his shoulders. He felt the man try to maneuver him away from the countertop. Robin gave in, allowing himself to be led away. Soon, Robin was pushed to sit down on the sofa. The box of tissues was placed inside his hands.

Robin kept his head down, not wanting to look up at the man and see his expression. Would there be a sneer there? Or would there be a look of pity? Or perhaps would there be a look of confusion? Whatever look was there, Robin just didn't want to see it. Each one meant something different and Robin wasn't sure which one he preferred to see.

A moment later, Robin felt something cold touch his face and he flinched slightly in shock.

"Drink this," said Slade. Robin turned his head to the side slightly to see a perspiring can of lemonade in Slade's hand. Robin accepted it.

"_Thank you_," whispered Robin automatically. He popped the can open and quickly took a deep drink from it; running the cool, sweet, yet tart liquid over his tongue and down his throat. It was gone in a few moments. His body shuddered slightly as another wave of tears slid down his cheeks.

Robin quickly ducked his head again, clutching the can in his hands so hard that they trembled.

He just couldn't understand it. Why was Slade being so… so kind? Everything the man was doing was so simple and soft; something that a normal human being would do when a distraught teenager had an emotional breakdown in their living room. Since when was Slade anything but a criminal? And why did he have such clean, orderly living quarters?

Robin's shoulders still shuddered underneath his weight; everything bearing down on him with its back creaking weight. The burden of protecting the city, the burden of lying to his friends, the burden of being a criminal's son, the burden of everything Robin ever knew was crashing down on him in a merciless compress.

Thus, time passed.

Time passed for Robin as he sat there, soaking endless tissues with his traitorous tears.

But then, finally, _finally_, the tears began to slow down. His hungered stomach began to settled slightly. His emotions began to settle down while further exhaustion set in. Everything seemed to lift slightly, the emotions clearing themselves away. The fog that had been over his mind began to lift.

Now what settled in its place was pure mortification.

Robin was completely mortified at himself. He was totally embarrassed, ashamed, _humiliated_ that he had lost all control over his emotions right now. Not only that, he just happened to lose all that control in _Slade's living room!_

"Here," came Slade's voice. Robin felt something freezing touch his cheek again. Robin bolted to the side slightly, looking up at Slade without being able to stop himself. He was surprised by the man's impassive expression. He was neither sneering, nor pitying, nor confused – in fact, he looked like he knew exactly what he was dealing with here.

The man was holding a Häagen-Dazs ice cream bar. Robin blinked in surprised, his wet eyelashes sticking together slightly.

"Wha…?"

"Eat it," said Slade.

Robin slowly accepted it; unwrapping it before taking a bite. He set his empty can onto the coffee table. Slade sat down in the nearby single armchair; eating a bar of his own.

Now Robin was thoroughly perplexed.

But he ate the ice cream bar without questioning; just thankful to put something into his stomach. He found he liked Slade's choice, a vanilla chocolate bar with almonds. He ate in silence, his torrent of emotions beginning to fully calm down finally. At the end, he licked the stick clean and put it back into the packaging.

Somehow, he was beginning to feel a lot better now.

He quickly used more tissues to clean his face and blow his nose, shoving the used tissues into the packaging of the ice cream bar. After a moment, Robin took a deep cleansing breath.

Slade leaned forward in his chair, placing his finished stick inside its packaging and laying it onto the coffee table. Then, he leaned his elbows onto his knees as he observed Robin.

Robin felt heat rise in his face as the wave of embarrassment flooded over him. Oh gosh, he'd never been so humiliated in his entire life. Just what was Slade going to say? Just how much was he going to belittle him and make fun of him?

But for some reason, a part of Robin didn't think that Slade would do so, not after all that he did.

"These emotional breakdowns…" started Slade in a slow tone. Robin stiffened. "Do they happen often?"

Robin swallowed, going on the defensive. "Why do you care?"

_Yeah, they happened often._

But Robin would sooner die then tell anyone. They were never as bad as this, though. This had to be his worst attack yet. He never could get them under control. There would just be those moments where everything seemed so heavy on his shoulders. He had managed to hide them from his friends.

But after the Red X incident, they were getting worse. The sleepless nights were getting worse; the lower appetite; the burdens of his job just seemed to get worse.

And then the best topper of them all: _son of Slade_.

All this culminating stress fell upon his shoulders ever since Slade had shown up in his city.

"Mary…" started Slade. Robin's eyes widened at his mother's name. "She would have moments like these. Quite often, in fact."

"Sh—she would?" gasped Robin. Slade nodded.

"She had some low blood sugar issues," said Slade, the light in his crystal blue fading slightly. "There would just be times where she would simply lose control over her emotions. A proper meal and a good bout of sugar usually did the trick. I learned to carry lifesavers in my pockets fairly early on. Pun was intended."

There was a small twitch in the man's mouth, as if he were trying to stop himself from smiling.

"I… I never knew," whispered Robin.

"She got better as she grew older," continued Slade. "She also learned how to prevent such things from happening."

Robin looked up at Slade, sinking his gaze deep into the man's crystal blue eye; seeking answers from the man.

"Have you been sleeping properly?"

Robin's jaw clenched and he had to avert his gaze. He just shook his head, not wanting to voice the reasons why.

"What about your eating habits?" asked Slade. Then, a wryness entered his tone. "Although I have a pretty good idea since the Teen Titans consume more _pizza_ than the world can make."

Robin had to bite his lower lip in the effort to stop himself from smiling at that. Instead, he shrugged; still looking away. Slade let out a low sigh.

"Your lack of sleep and improper eating habits will account for such things. You need food; simple as that. You've probably inherited Mary's low blood sugar issues. When you feel yourself slipping like this, just eat something. It'll probably make you feel better and help you regain control over yourself."

It was so strange listening to Slade tell him this; tell him something so mundane and simple. But Slade's voice wasn't so annoying, so grating on Robin at that moment. The smoothness was actually soothing. The man's tone didn't have that usual smugness to it, which was the biggest irritant to Robin. It was simply a man's voice; deep, masculine, smooth, almost lulling in its manner.

Robin found himself studying Slade; looking at every contour of the man's face, soaking in the man's voice.

"So, are you going to tell me why you reached this point of no control?" asked Slade. Robin's eyes widened and he glanced away, his face flushing deeply. His chest lifted in a heaving double hitch of his breath.

"Why am I here?" whispered Robin, choosing to ignore the man's question.

"Why indeed?" responded Slade. "We made a deal. You visit three times a week, I refrain from criminal activity. You miss a day… Well, I'll have to entertain myself some way."

"Why is my visiting so important?" asked Robin, looking back at the man. "How is my visiting the thing that holds you back?"

An older, aged crystal blue eye bore deep into Robin's soul.

"You are Mary's son," said Slade, his eye flashing strongly. "You are _my_ son. Had I known you were my son, things would've played out far differently."

"How?" breathed Robin, unable to lift his voice higher than a whisper.

"I would've raised you."

Robin swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as the mixture of feelings began to play over him. Just how would've things turned out if Slade had been his father? Just what would his life had been like? Would he have turned out like he had or would he have turned into something darker?

"Raised me… into what?" asked Robin, looking down at his clasped hands in his lap.

There was a long moment of silence where it seemed as if Slade was heavily considering Robin's question. Then, the man's smooth voice lifted into the air.

"Into a young man who grew up with a constant father in his life."

Robin's clasped hands began to tremble terribly in his lap.

_A constant father…_

What would've that been like?

Then, Slade stood up and came to stand over him. Robin had to look up at the man's towering height. A fleeting thought passed through his mind, wondering if he'll ever reach a height that tall.

"Would you indulge me?" asked Slade, his expression soft.

"In what?" whispered Robin. There was something reverent about Slade's tone, making him match the man's tone. He watched the man swallow once, his protruding, prominent Adam's apple bobbing once.

"I want to examine your face."

"Oh…"

Robin found himself extremely startled by this. The man wanted to… examine his face? But why? Why would he want to look at his face? Hadn't he already seen it? What was so important about his face?

But Robin could only nod gently in agreement, unable to deny the sincere look on the man's face. Slade knelt down in front of him. Robin grew nervous by the sudden closeness between them. Robin sat up, straightening so that the man could do whatever he was wishing to do; feeling more and more nervous as each moment passed by.

Because of the man's height, Robin only had to look down slightly into the man's face. Slade's large hands reached up to his face. Robin flinched slightly once they touched him; unnerved by the familiarity from an adult. But they were so gentle, so tender as they traced the lining of Robin's jaw. Being so close to Slade, he could readily see the flashing emotions that were passing through the man's usually impassive expression.

It was such a contrast that these hands were the same hands that could produce so much pain and sorrow.

Robin wanted to close his eyes, feeling so strange as the man studied him. But he was too drawn into the light that was glittering inside that crystal blue eye. There was such a deep, unbending pain within that light. Pride and then deep longing flashed over that eye. Then, the pain entered once again; the sorrow embedded intensely within.

The gentle hands traced Robin's cheekbones.

Emotion beyond anything that Robin had ever felt rose up inside his chest. It took every ounce of his self control not to collapse beneath it. The way the man was so softly, so kindly, so longingly studying the features of his face made Robin yearn in return.

What if?

What if the past had been completely different and this man had raised him?

How many nights would be filled with reassurances after the nightmares? How many monsters under the bed would've been chased away? How many tears would've been wiped away from a fall and skinned knee? How many hugs would there have been? How many gentle kisses? How many times would a baseball been thrown? How many times would advice, comfort, knowledge been extracted?

Fate was cruel.

It was horribly cruel.

If Slade had raised him, would Robin have been the man's apprentice like he wanted? Would he have been his partner, been at his side like Robin had been by Batman's side? Would he be a criminal, too? Would he have learned at the man's side? Would he have fought with him and thus run away to another city, only to form the Teen Titans?

Would the man have not come after him like Batman had not?

The hands fully encased Robin's cheeks; thumbs gently stroking right beneath his eyes.

"You haven't been sleeping much lately," murmured Slade. Robin could only swallow; so unnerved, so surprised, so still by the softness and the tenderness that the man bore in those hands.

Then, those hands finally withdrew. For the first time in such a long time, Robin actually felt distressed by the withdrawal of adult affection. He hadn't had it after his parents' deaths. Batman wasn't an affectionate man – _at all_. So, Robin learned to live without it.

But now with such an overwhelming flood of it, Robin found just how much he missed it.

How could he desire such a thing from this man? Was this man Slade – the very same man he had hated with his entire being a mere _day_ ago? What was changing? What was making Robin change his thinking?

"You have my jaw line and cheekbones, but your overall look is so Mary," said Slade, deep sorrow and yet, deep pride in his voice. "There's so much of her in you."

Further emotion writhed inside Robin's chest at the sound of that.

Slade stood up, walking away towards a hallway that laid at Robin's left. Robin looked down at his clasped hands in his lap. He was so confused by the feelings that were rising up inside his heart.

He was seeing a different side of Slade he hadn't imagined. The man was actually soft and gentle – there was no doubt about it. There was a stern exterior, one that hid emotion well; but it seemed that when faced with something that touched his soul, the man's emotions flashed through his face with perfect precision.

Was this really the same man Robin had been fighting all this time?

A few moments passed before Slade came into the room again. He was holding a large manila envelope. He walked back to the armchair and sat down.

"Here," said Slade, handing him the envelope. Robin lifted an eyebrow and accepted it.

"What's this?"

"Open it and find out."

Thus, Robin did so. It took him a moment as he fumbled with the metal prongs on the back; his fingers trembling from his nervousness. Finally, he got it open. Slowly, he pulled out a document. His eyes widened as he realized that it was a wedding license.

"Mary's maiden name was Cardei," said Slade.

Robin scanned the document, seeing that Mary Talaitha Cardei was on the document and then the name Slade Joseph Wilson was also on the document.

"Wilson?" asked Robin, glancing up at the man. Slade hesitated for a brief moment before he gave him a nod.

_Richard… Wilson…_

Robin tried to push all the tormenting and conflicting feelings that were once again rising up inside his chest. It was then that he noticed that there was more within the manila envelope. Tentatively, Robin reached inside. His hands nearly dropped what he saw.

There were a number of photographs.

All wedding pictures.

Robin's breath caught inside his throat as he saw a picture of a very young Mary and a very young Slade. Robin hadn't seen such a young picture of his mother, but he recognized her immediately. Slade was young and sharp looking, wearing a full military uniform – and he didn't have the eye patch.

They looked so happy in these photos.

"Mary was seventeen and I was nineteen," said Slade. "Her father… He didn't like the fact that she was dating a man in the army. He disowned her when she wouldn't break off the relationship. She didn't have any other place to go and to keep things proper between us, we got married. I wanted to wait until she was eighteen, but there was no helping it."

"You two were… so young," said Robin, tracing the edges of the photo with a finger. His mother was so radiant, so happy. He had never seen her this happy – not this level. There was this never ending joy that was emanating from her face. And Slade, too, looked just as happy.

They looked so normal – like a family.

"We met two years prior," said Slade. "We dated for a year before the marriage. But I'll admit, I fell in love when I first saw her."

_Love at first sight…_

It was so romantic; like an idyllic dream. It was the dream of every child to hear about the love story of their parents; to hear the how, the why that brought them together and that kept them together. It was one thing Robin never remembered his mother talking about.

Why had she married John Grayson then?

"So, what happened that caused my mother to be married to my fa—to John Grayson?"

Robin amended himself midsentence. While he was used to John as his father, Slade was also his father and it was beginning to get confusing in his mind. He had always called his parents Mama and Papa. But when talking about them, he always addressed them as his mother and father. It was pretty childish at his age to call his parents by 'Mama' and 'Papa' but he still did when he was alone. That's who they were to him.

But now Slade was entering the picture.

"Obviously, I don't have the full story," said Slade, his entire stance going rigid. "But what I do know is four years into the marriage, I was called away on a… military medical assignment – experimentation that I had foolishly sighed up for when I joined the army at sixteen."

Robin noticed that the man sounded extremely resentful when he spoke of the military.

"It put me into a two year coma," said Slade in a deep, low undertone; emotion filled within. Robin's eyes widened in shock. "The military told Mary that I was deceased. Later on, I found out that everything I had ever owned disappeared. Upon saying that I had died, they also erased my very existence."

Robin's heart stilled at that. The army… erased Slade's existence? How…? Why…?

"When I woke up, I looked for Mary. But when I saw her with _him_ and with a two year son, I thought the worst. I honestly thought she had forgotten about me. I thought you were his son. I look back now… I should've confronted her."

"What stopped you?"

"I… honestly don't know," said Slade, terrible sorrow filling his tone. "But you can only imagine how I felt. Seeing the only woman you ever loved with another man and not only that, with a son… It's far more painful than you can imagine. Far more painful…"

Slade trailed off; his voice dying off.

Robin didn't know what to say. He could only feel the hurt, the pain, and the sorrow that the man expressed through his tone. There was another moment before Slade stood up. The man swallowed once.

"I have some more pictures that I can find. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Slade left the room down the hallway again. Robin laid his head against the back of the couch. The information was spinning inside his mind; everything swirling and surging. It sounded all so horrible. Slade truly had been dealt a terrible fate. Robin could only imagine how he'd feel if he saw the girl he loved with another guy. It'd be heartbreaking. He wouldn't know what to do or how to feel at that point.

Robin closed his eyes. It was all thoroughly exhausting, to be honest. Everything was; the burdens, the lying, the knowledge – he was so _tired_. He wished he could just rest in some simple peace sometimes, but with the nightmares plaguing his nights, it wasn't possible. No matter what he did, there was no escaping them. He couldn't sleep, even if he wanted to.

And yet, that's just what he did; slipping off to sleep as the complete exhaustion overtook him.

It was a few moments later that Slade walked back into the living room to see the lad fast asleep. He set the other pictures aside. Without bothering him, Slade grabbed the extra couch blanket and draped it over the boy's shoulders. He watched him sleep for a moment, the boy's breathing deep as he slept.

He knew it; the lad was pushing himself too much; placing too many responsibilities upon himself. He was so much like Slade in that regard; driven, determined, focused. But since he was young and without guidance, he couldn't balance it.

And just whose fault was that?

It was true that certain events had unfolded in the past, but now that Slade heavily thought on it, he knew he messed up; missed his chance to rectify things. He should've been more assertive. But grief and betrayal were powerful emotions in a person; and Slade had allowed them to consume him.

But this changed everything.

This boy was his son. That alone changed everything Slade had ever known in the past fourteen years. It told him something important about Mary as well. She never had a son with that man. She had only one child and that child had been Slade's.

Slade sat down in the armchair and leaned forward onto his elbows; clasping his hands together to rest his chin on them. He continued to watch the boy; the boy that was _his_.

So many years wasted. How could fate align themselves to such an outcome? It should've been completely different. Mary should still be alive; Slade at her side. Robin should've grown up within their safety; within their love. He should've grown up with many brothers and sisters; should've been a carefree child.

So many should haves; so many regrets.

All the thoughts of revenge, all the thoughts of anger, all the thoughts and pursuits that had been his entire focus were now erased from Slade's mind. All the things he had built for himself the past fourteen years after waking up from his coma were now useless. They didn't matter.

Even though the bitterness and hatred he felt for a certain faction still existed, it was not more important than this boy. He should've long shoved such feelings away and thought logically on the entire matter.

Maybe then Mary would still be alive.

This boy, this _son_ was now his only concern. But he knew past animosities were hard to overwrite. He always said that trust was easy to destroy, but difficult to build. Building trust with a boy that had viewed him as his ultimate enemy, his ultimate adversary would be extremely difficult.

But build it Slade was going to do.

No matter how long it would take; no matter how many sacrifices had to be made – Slade would form trust with this boy, this _son_. He was willing to do anything. He had loved Mary too much to allow the bitterness of his heart to warp the potential clarity that was now given to him. Fate had dealt him a terrible blow, but now it seemed as if it was giving him a second chance; a chance he wasn't going to allow pass by.

He would do anything for _their_ son.

….….…

Robin bolted upwards, his breathing terribly erratic. He gasped, shivering slightly.

Was it another nightmare? He couldn't remember. There had been a long moment of peace inside his heart, but it had panicked somehow; forcing him to bolt upwards out of his sleep. He felt warmth surrounding him and noticed that a blanket was draped over him.

Robin glanced around, blinking a few times as he took in his surroundings. Then, his heart began to panic inside his chest; pounding rapidly.

He was still at Slade's place. He had fallen asleep here.

Robin threw the blanket off him and bolted to his feet. He glanced around the dimly lit room for a clock or anything that would give him a clue of the time. Then, he caught sight of a digital clock on the stove. It said twenty-three minutes past eight.

In the morning.

Robin was shocked. He had slept _soundly_, catching up the sleep he hadn't had in _weeks_, even months. How the heck did he manage to get through a night without a full blown nightmare? How did he manage to get through the night without once waking up?

Slade walked into the room from the hallway, carrying a book in his hands. He stopped, catching sight of Robin.

"You're awake."

"Yeah…"

Robin couldn't believe it. He had fallen asleep here. How could he have lowered his guard that much? The man could've done anything to him. He had been in this criminal's home unguarded, unprotected. How foolish was that? Batman would severely berate him for such a stupid move!

"I was wondering if I should wake you," said Slade, setting the book onto the middle countertop. "But you needed sleep."

Robin could only nod, noticing the man was wearing different clothes in a similar fashion as yesterday. He never imagined Slade would be a clean cut, stylish kind of man – but he was. The man had a sense of style and taste that was pretty impressive.

He was also wearing a different tie – a dark green mixture of burgundy and trimmed yellow in design.

"I wasn't supposed to stay all night," said Robin quickly before he could stop himself. He felt nervous and jittery. Then, more panic flooded through his entire being.

_His friends!_

They'll be wondering where he'd been all night. What was he going to tell them? Another lie? Just what could he say to them? There was no way he could explain all this; no way he could tell them what happened. He'd have to explain why he lied in the first place.

More lies, more webs of deceit – just when was he going to be free from them?

"Turns out you did, though," said Slade, a dry smile lightly tugging at the edge of his lips.

The panic was still eating Robin alive. His friends would be awake now. They'll be wondering why he wasn't in the tower. Starfire had watched him leave; she'll tell the others; they'll figure out he'd been gone all night; they'll be curious; they'll be concerned; they'll ask what's going on.

Robin would have to explain himself.

Robin swallowed, curling his arms around his chest. He was going to have to lie to them again and again. When would it stop? When he destroyed everything by his twisted words?

What was he going to tell Starfire?

Slade suddenly threw him a banana. Robin managed to catch it expertly.

"Eat that."

"I don't need—"

"Eat it," said Slade with a firm light in his eye. "You need to eat regularly. You'll keep breaking down like you did last night if you don't. You look like you're about to have another nervous breakdown."

Robin stripped the banana halfway and shoved half the fruit inside his mouth, chewing grudgingly with a scowl on his face.

Who did Slade think he was telling him to eat? He wasn't about to have a nervous breakdown, thank you very much. Robin didn't need to be told what to do! Who did he think he was, his father?

Oh, dang it.

Robin felt the familiar wave of mixed feelings flood through him. He stole a glance at the man. Slade was working in the kitchen, preparing something. It felt strange that the man had instructed him to eat, as if he were looking out for him. How could the man tell he was breaking down? Was it that well written across his face?

Or was it more?

"I really need to go," said Robin with a mouthful of banana. He swallowed. For some reason, he felt the need to tell the man he needed to leave. He felt like he couldn't just leave without saying… without saying so.

"A few more minutes won't hurt now," said Slade, his back still turned to him. Robin finished the rest of the banana, walking into the area of the kitchen and tossing the peel into the garbage can. He walked a little more into the kitchen to see Slade at the stovetop, flipping a pancake. In another pan, there were a number of sausage links.

"What…"

"You stayed the night," said Slade in an even tone, turning a sausage around. "Might as well as send you on your way with a hearty breakfast."

Robin opened his mouth for a moment, but then closed it. Things were just getting stranger and stranger by the second. Slade making him breakfast? What kind of alternate dimension did he travel to in the middle of the night?

"It's not really necessary," said Robin.

"It is."

Robin wasn't sure what to say in reply to that. The man looked determined to cook breakfast. A plate was beginning to pile with freshly cooked pancakes.

Robin was at a loss. He was confused, felt guilty for even being here; and yet he felt drawn to the man. He felt extremely drawn to this man now. Slade was displaying things that Robin had never even imagined possible. The 'criminal' demeanor that Slade had usually displayed was slowly fading into something different.

Into someone that Robin was beginning to realize was the true man.

And Robin was drawn to that man; very much so. There was something about him that was powerful, yet comfortable – familiar even. Robin could almost imagine what it would've been like if his life had been filled with this man as his father. His life would've been very different – different from John Grayson; different from Bruce Wayne, alias Batman.

Robin was unsettled by how much he could learn to like this man.

So, if this was the true Slade, then why don the mask and become someone so different? The criminal Slade was far more annoying, far more irritating, far more _everything_. It was such a contrast. So, what led the man to become a criminal? What were his motives? Would Robin gain the answers if he continued with this arrangement?

What would he do with the answers?

A few minutes later, Slade pulled a glass plate from a cabinet and piled four pancakes and four sausages onto it. He handed it to Robin.

"Syrup is in the fridge. Butter is on the table," said Slade, continuing to cook more pancakes.

Robin held onto the plate, trying to makes head or tails of the current situation. It was so unreal, Robin had a little difficulty for a moment. He must be dreaming. Why wasn't he fighting with this man? Where was all the anger and hatred that had been in his heart all towards this man?

"Why are you doing this?" asked Robin, before he could stop himself. "Why are you so different? What happened to the psychopathic Slade that I've been trying to stop all this time?"

Slade turned slightly, looking down at him.

"I was never psychopathic."

"You tried to destroy the city with a giant fire monster!"

"I was never planning on destroying the city. That has _never_ been in my plans."

"What about those computer chips?" protested Robin. "The ones you had Red X steal for you? What were they and what were they for?"

"You stole technology without even knowing what it was?" asked Slade, a smirk stretching his mouth. "Robin, you're slipping."

Robin growled.

"They were held in a high security facility!" snapped Robin. "_Of course_, I didn't know what they were. I only stole them to get close to you!"

"Maybe I'll tell you another time," said Slade, dishing another plate full of pancakes and sausages. "Don't you need to get back to your friends before they miss you too much?"

"You're changing the subject here!"

"I am not," said Slade, turning off the fires on the stovetop. "I am merely saying that you cannot expect all the answers in one day. Come back again."

"But—"

"Robin, eat your breakfast."

Robin clamped his mouth shut, feeling extremely annoyed. The Slade he had been obsessed with bringing down had surfaced and was thoroughly irritating him – the Slade that withheld information; the Slade that taunted him; the Slade that haunted his dreams.

All those awful dreams.

Robin didn't realize he was trembling until a hand rested onto his shoulder. He startled, nearly dropping the plate of food in his hands. He looked up into Slade's unmasked face.

"Sit down. Eat," said Slade. "You're becoming unstable again."

"_I am not!_"

Slade firmly clasped Robin by his upper arms, leaning down slightly to stare directly into his face.

"You are destroying yourself," said Slade slowly. "By refusing to eat, to sleep, to take care of yourself, you are beginning to unravel."

Robin wrenched out of Slade's grip; a sausage flew off his plate as he did so. He slammed the plate onto the middle countertop and another sausage plopped off the plate, flopping onto the countertop.

"Just whose fault is all that?! I was _fine_ before _you_ showed up," shouted Robin, slicing a hand through the air fiercely. "Some _father_ you are!" A subtle flash of injury crossed Slade's face, but Robin was too angry to notice. "_You're_ the reason I can't sleep at night anymore. _You're_ the reason I have nightmares. They're _all_ about _you!_"

Robin covered his face with a hand as his chest heaved with his anger and resentment.

"All I hear is your taunting voice mocking me. _'Robin, is that the best you can do? Robin, excellent work; I think your skills are improving. Robin, you and I are so very much alike.'_ I can't stand it anymore!"

Robin's head dropped; his shoulders hunching over as they began to tremble. He hated this. No matter how many times he had tried, he just hadn't been able to reveal the man beneath the mask. It hadn't been in his power to do so. And now here was the man, but he was far different than Robin had ever imagined.

He had been powerless; completely powerless and even now he was still playing in this man's hands.

"But I can't even stop you," said Robin in a low, injured whisper; keeping his head low and hating the truth as he spoke it. "I'm powerless against you – our fight proved that much. There's nothing I can do to stop you. You've really just been playing games with us all this time."

Robin looked back up at Slade.

"The only reason why I'm here, why I'm lying to my friends is so I can protect this city."

There was a moment where Slade simply stared back at him. But after the moment passed, Slade spoke.

"You aren't the least bit curious about me?" asked Slade with a tilt of his head; his expression excessively impassive. Robin swallowed and ran a hand over his face, shaking his head.

"I don't even know anymore."

There was a long moment of silence. Robin didn't look up at the man, unable to understand the flurry of feelings and emotions that were running through him at that moment. The confusion, the anger, the hatred, the worry, the guilt – everything was overpowering him.

It was as if it all had a gripping grasp around his neck, trying to choke the very life out of him.

"You should eat and then go," said Slade finally, breaking the suffocating silence. "Answers will come with time. I will… answer them for you."

Robin looked up to see Slade dishing two sausages from his own plate onto Robin's. The man pointed to it.

"Eat and you'll feel better."

"I'm not hungry."

There was an automatic growl from Robin's traitorous stomach.

"You're a bad liar."

Bile rose up inside Robin's throat. That wasn't true. He was a terrific liar. After all, all his friends still thought he was telling them the truth. They didn't second guess him. They didn't realize the deception he was painting around them. Of course, he was only painting himself into a corner.

What would he do then?

"You'll find that I can tell when you're lying to me," said Slade. "Even without the glaring clues your body gives."

Robin flushed and turned his head away. Without another word, he took the plate and walked to the table; sitting down in a chair. He stared at the plate, realizing he forgot a few things, but didn't really have the energy to figure out how to find them.

A fork and a knife were set next to him; along with a jar of maple syrup and a tray of butter.

Robin glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye. The feeling that was rising inside his chest was constricting his heart, yet he didn't know what it was.

Robin ate the food in silence. Slade didn't attempt to talk to him either while he ate as well. The two of them just sat at that round wooden table, eating their breakfast in a mutual silence. Robin tried to eat as quickly as he could without making himself sick. He was ready to leave. He couldn't stay anymore. He needed a break from all this confusion; all this familiarity and peculiarity.

When he finished, he placed his fork and knife onto the plate.

"Thank you," murmured Robin, feeling awkward. Slade merely inclined his head in acknowledgement. The man stood up and handed Robin his pair of black sunglasses.

"You'll be wanting these."

"Oh… thanks," said Robin, taking them. He slipped them on and the lighting dimmed in his eyesight. He slowly stood, feeling awkward and strange again. "I guess… I'll be going now."

Slade merely nodded.

Robin turned away, walking towards the door that led into the dark haunt of the criminal side of Slade; contrasting itself with the brightly lit living quarters – reiterating the presence of two sides of the enigma that was Slade.

"Are you really going to abstain from criminal activity if I continue to visit you?" asked Robin, turning to face the man as his hand touched the handle of the door.

"I gave you my word."

Robin watched the man carefully; staring deeply into that crystal blue eye. The man truly did look sincere; Robin could read it. But it was so strange to think that this man was the very same man who wore that mask.

Robin couldn't help his question.

"Is that worth something?"

"I should hope so," replied Slade without pausing. "It's all I have left."

Robin swallowed once, unwaveringly watching the man still. His breathing was slow as the silence lifted into the air.

Was he really going to keep visiting this man? Was he really going to keep discovering more about him? What would happen when he reached a point of no return? He could still opt out now, before it was too late. Just because this man was his father didn't mean they could come to any real understanding. This man was Slade, wasn't he?

It's not like years of absence and months of hatred could be cleared so easily.

Right?

"I'll come back in two days," said Robin, before leaving through the door and closing it behind him.

….….…

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Five: Absolute Authority – Robin keeps his next visit with Slade. However, the stress that he's placing upon himself is starting to greatly affect his health and through his foolishness, he discovers the unbending authority that Slade claims.

**Author's Notes:** As I'm writing, I'm finding that this Slade is definitely a bit different than normal Slades – especially different than _Forgotten Bonds'_ Slade. I think it's because of some of the things I plan to weave through him with the events that'll unfold. Kind of fun writing such a different side to Slade. ^^

And Robin; man, I hadn't been counting on giving him a physical issue, but wow it sure unfolded that way. I really like it, actually. As humans, we're all susceptible to such things. I myself have experienced low blood sugar, so it's something I understand. I like writing about a Robin who has to deal with these types of things on top of all the other stress that he goes through.

So, I've decided. Updates will happen on either Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Saturdays – basically the opposite days to _Forgotten Bonds_. I'm writing this one as I go – meaning I don't have future chapters really as prepared as I do with my main story, so I cannot guarantee an update. But when I do update, it'll be on one of those days and more than likely at least once a week, if not twice.

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	5. Absolute Authority

**Author's Note:** Wow, thank you so much for the support. ^^ And thanks a ton for all the reviews!

Wooo! I made it for a Tuesday update. ^-^

My _word_, do you know how many times I updated the last chapter with typo mistakes? Good grief. What up with that? Note to self: do not edit so early in the morning. XD Lack of sleep equals delirium. Typos really do pop up like daisies. O.o

So, I'm pretty sure of the next chapter blurb, but honestly, it's subject to change. It mostly a good thing, because it just means that the story keeps getting expanded. XD If I change it, it just means there'll be more to read. LOL. Also, I've changed something – you can expect an AU appearance of Wintergreen, Grant, and Joey in the future.

Yeah, you heard me right. ^_^

Also, an add to the warnings: physical abuse. This will come later in a flashback to Slade's past.

So, interesting story. I had no idea that Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) had an event in April. Funnily enough, I wrote during that month – _Forgotten Bonds_ reached 106,127 words in the month of April alone. Of course, it's long past that. ^^ So, for the next event in July, I'll be testing out the waters for _Warped Identity_. *sighs resignedly* I am now taking this story just as serious as my other one. Aha, so much work.

Wish me luck! ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Absolute Authority**

Sneaking into the Tower just wasn't happening. No matter the years of stealth he had gleamed with his time under the tutelage of Batman, he just couldn't manage the task. There were four frantic friends on the loose and all of them searching for him. They had been sick with worry after realizing he had left and hadn't come back.

Just Robin's luck.

Thus, Robin was standing in the hallway in the midst of his four relieved friends. One of which was currently hugging him, making him blush a deep crimson red; the heat sliding all the way to his ears.

"Robin!"

The owner of the name could've sworn he felt his bones crack beneath her crushing, yet thoroughly loving hug. His mind was racing furiously; trying to formulate something that made sense, anything that could explain his all night absence.

Why'd his brain have to go blank at that moment?

"Dude! Where've you been all night?" cried Beast Boy indignantly, yet sounding concerned. Starfire pulled away finally, but the heat in Robin's face hadn't left him yet. Just exactly what he needed right now; a fried brain.

"Yeah, we've been looking everywhere for you," interjected Cyborg.

"Um… just out," said Robin, automatically averting his eyes even though he was wearing the sunglasses; knowing full well it sounded completely lame.

"Out where!?"

"Just out," said Robin, setting his tone firmer. "I didn't mean to be out all night. It just sort of happened."

_That's not a lie. It's not. It's the truth. I didn't mean to fall asleep._

"But where?" asked Raven, setting an unbending stare on Robin. He stilled nervously, feeling her look him over and he had to wonder if she could see through him like glass.

"Around, okay?" said Robin, walking past his friends. He was trembling inside. He really didn't want to lie to them again. He was going to get buried beneath it all if he did. He couldn't make up something on the spot. The thought of it made him feel nauseous. He hated this.

"But—"

"Look," said Robin, whirling around; his chest heaving once as he began to feel sick to his stomach. "I was looking over some clues, okay? I just can't understand why Slade played us like that. So, I was going over a few things – in civilian clothes so Slade wouldn't notice. I honestly lost track of time."

"But why go alone?" asked Cyborg. "We're a team and you shouldn't be doing things on your own without telling us."

Robin's mouth went dry.

"I know that," said Robin, his mind racing as his stomach began to churn even more. Pancakes and sausages seemed to be too much for his stomach at that moment. "But as members of the Teen Titans, it's kinda hard for any of you to blend in. I can. Sorry, guys."

Maybe that breakfast a bit too heavy and rich. His stomach was literally churning up a storm; tossing, turning horribly in the pit. Nausea began to flood through his throat, coupled with an approaching headache.

His four friends looked between each other for a moment, before they seemed to be pacified.

_Another lie. Yet another lie._

The nausea flooded higher. Robin immediately felt something was dangerously off. He had to take a deep breath, trying to calm his insides. But it seemed as if his body was just not going to listen to his control.

"Whoa, dude; you all right there?" asked Beast Boy. "You're looking a little… green."

"I…" Robin's mouth trembled. "I think I might be a little sick. Maybe that late night burger didn't settle nicely—"

_Another lie._

_Liar._

Robin had to put his hand to his mouth as he darted away. He rushed to his room – which was, luckily, close by – and slammed the door shut; bolting into his bathroom and making it just in time to double over the toilet, completely emptying the contents of his morning breakfast into the bowl. His sunglasses dropped to the floor beside him.

It was horrible.

Everything tasted _horrible_ in his mouth. He never wanted to eat pancakes, syrup, or sausages again. The backlash of his breakfast was enough to cure him of any desire for those types of food ever again. _Never again_. The acid burned his throat, the bitter taste flooding through his mouth. He coughed and spluttered, choking through the experience.

Then, another wave expelled from his mouth.

Tears seeped from his eyes as he tried to get his stomach to stop. But it wouldn't; wave after wave as his contracting stomach emptied every last content it held. It wouldn't even stop until he was dry heaving; coughing and gasping for air as the terrible burning in his throat became a fiery raw. The nausea was still prevalent throughout his throat, but soon his stomach began to settle. His head was pounding furiously at him. _Pound. Pound. Pound._ The relentless, sharp shooting pounding in his head just made everything worse.

Finally, when his bout was over, Robin slumped against the wall and rested his head there; wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Tears were streaming down his cheeks from the horrible raw burning in his throat from the acid. Gosh, he felt sick. So sick beyond anything he had felt in a long time. What the heck did Slade put in those pancakes?

Although, Robin knew fell well that Slade didn't have anything to do with his sickness.

This was all his fault.

He was making himself sick. All the stress, the lies, everything was adding up and making him sick. But what else could he do? There was nothing he could do to change the situation. He was still the leader of the Teen Titans; he still had the responsibility to protect the people of this city; he still couldn't tell his friends exactly what was going on with Slade.

Could he ever tell them?

So, all he could do now was lie to them; build an illusion to protect himself. But within the illusion, something terrible was definitely happening to him. Robin wasn't sure how he was going to be able to deal with this. Just how could he keep this from his friends when he didn't even have the energy to stand up at that very moment? He wasn't supposed to be weak like this. Batman _never_ was like this. _He_ never got sick like this. Even with a cold, the man still did his job and he did it perfectly. Why couldn't Robin be like that?

He hated being this feeble; _fragile_ even. It just wasn't fair. He was trying to help people. Why did he have to be held back like this? Why couldn't he just devote his time to doing his job? He didn't need this kind of time wasting experiences. Being sick was pathetic and a complete waste of time. He had better things to do than deal with this crap.

He was weak; physically, his entire body felt weakened. It was exhausted. His stomach hurt so bad and he couldn't even think properly with his throat feeling like fire itself. And that pounding; _gosh_, he needed that pounding to stop already. His head felt like someone was constantly bonking him with a stick.

"Robin?"

Robin's breathing hitched as he heard her voice. _Her_ voice; her blithe, concerned voice lifted through his room and made it into the bathroom.

No, no, no, no, no.

_She_ cannot be here. That would be the most mortifying thing ever. To have her see this, see him like this… _No, no, no!_

It was there: panic beyond anything Robin had ever felt before flooded through his entire being; paralyzing him. He was shell shocked; collapsed on the floor, vomit gracing his mouth and a sickening smell wafting through the bathroom.

"Robin, are you all right?"

"I'm fine!" croaked Robin in panic, his heart pounding furiously against his chest.

_She_ could not come in here. _She_ was _not_ allowed in here!

Robin heard his door slide open, light streaming into the room and into the open bathroom door. He closed his eyes; total despair and mortification drowning all his senses. She was inside his room now. There was no stopping the girl now. She was going to see him at his lowest point; at his weakest point.

First Slade, now Starfire – the very two people he'd have died before showing them his weaknesses.

"Robin, are you truly all right?" asked Starfire's kind voice, stepping into the room. Robin's eyes popped open, further panic freezing his entire soul.

His sunglasses.

They weren't on.

He quickly glanced around the floor and found them; grabbing them quickly and shoving them onto his face. The room faded slightly as the shades dimmed the lighting.

There was a small gasp.

"Robin!"

Then, Robin felt Starfire's presence right beside him. He kept his face low and away from her anxious, fretful stare. He felt her soft hands touch his arm.

"I'm fine, Star," said Robin hoarsely.

"Oh, Robin; you are not fine. You are not fine at all," said Starfire, her voice overflowing with concern. "You are quite sick."

"I'm fine."

_Obviously. I puking my guts out here. Of course, I'm fine. Lying point blank to her face. Oh, yeah; I'm just peachy here._

_Liar._

Another wave of nausea flooded over him; his stomach contracting viciously, mercilessly. Robin's face went grim as he clamped his mouth down in the fierce attempt to contain himself.

"Robin, let me help you," whispered Starfire, her voice so kind, so soft, so _gentle_ and coaxing that it caused even more panic inside Robin's heart.

"Starfire, no—"

"Hush, Robin," murmured Starfire, her voice still sounding wonderfully and horribly gentle and kind; making it just seem all the worst to Robin. "_Please_, let me help you."

"I don't need help!" cried Robin, coughing once afterward and wincing in pain. Robin was ignored as he felt Starfire clasp him beneath his underarm. He didn't have the energy to stop her and he wouldn't been able to do so even with his full energy; the alien girl was using her strength against him and there was no stopping her.

Why was he always so powerless against others?

Starfire helped him to his feet; Robin swaying slightly as another wave of nausea teased him. He quickly put a hand to his mouth to tell his body to stop it. Starfire's bright green eyes looked alarmed.

"Robin, are you all right?"

_No, I don't think so…_

"I'm fine," lied Robin. The wave of nausea became stronger in response to this. It took all of Robin's control and willpower not to start dry heaving once again. He wasn't—_he would not_ dry heave with Starfire in the room. There was no way. _No way_.

He needed some dignity after all this. Something that he could lay claim upon to keep his sanity.

But there was none for him as Starfire led him out of the bathroom. His footsteps wavered and wobbled as she helped him to his bed. Robin sat on the edge, the bed sagging. He wanted to die. This was the worst of all; for her to see him like this – to see him at such a low. Robin probably could've handled it if it had been any of the other three.

But not her; not Starfire; not the girl he…

He flinched suddenly as a soft hand touched his cheek. Robin looked up to see Starfire looking worriedly over him. Her thumb tenderly wiped away at the trail of his tears; fingering right below his eye. Robin was so still, too overwhelmed by the act to know what to do next. Then, her other hand did the same thing with his other cheek.

"Robin," whispered Starfire, her voice breathing gentleness. "You do not have to push yourself so hard. Your health is very important to us—to me. Please take care of yourself."

And with that, her hands withdrew. Robin was so stunned by it all, his body couldn't even react with the usual flushing heat that followed by her close proximity. Starfire smiled brightly, clapping her hands happily together once.

"I know what I shall do! I shall make you something native to my home planet to help you become well once again."

Self preservation kicked in, breaking Robin out of his stupor.

"No, no!" cried Robin hurriedly, holding up his hands. "No, no, Star; that won't be necessary. I'll be fine."

"But I am sure it could be of much help."

"I just think something disagreed with me, Star," said Robin, placing a hand on his hollowed stomach. "But thanks anyways."

Starfire looked a little disappointed by this, but Robin was not about to feel guilty about it. If Starfire fed him those foods from Tamaran, then there would be no guarantee that Robin would be alive tomorrow and as much as he didn't want to disappoint her, remaining alive seemed a bit higher on the scale of importance.

Just a bit.

"I'll… rest for awhile," said Robin, beginning to feel the heat rise in his cheeks from his embarrassment. "Thanks for helping me."

Starfire seemed to brighten at this and she nodded happily. Then, a serious light entered her soft eyes, a kindness entering deep within.

"You can always ask for my help, Robin; because I shall always give it to you."

With those words playing over and over in Robin's mind, she left his room without another word.

Robin flopped back onto his bed, staring up at the darkened ceiling of his room. A little too much activity happened in the recent five minutes for his comfort, there was no doubt about that. He wasn't sure what to make of it and he was doing his utmost to ignore the growing mortification that was trying to eat him alive.

He closed his eyes, wishing everything could go away for awhile; just enough to let him get back on his feet – including his terribly pounding headache. He felt as if he were trying to gain his footing on thick ice, but he just couldn't; his feet sliding and slipping beneath him. He just couldn't get a stable footing on his current situation and it was just making everything seem so huge.

What could he do, though? Who could he turn to? And why the heck did he feel like he needed someone to turn to? He could handle himself just fine.

Robin ignored the glaring and rising evidence that was declaring to him otherwise.

A few hours later, Robin managed to leave his room after cleaning himself up; taking a long, hot shower and still trying to rinse his lies off, but failing. The pounding in his head and the nausea had faded greatly, but his stomach was starving to death.

But he ignored it.

The very thought of putting something into his stomach, only for it to be expelled like that was enough to make him go on a very long fast. So, whenever his friends tried to get him to eat, he declined; telling them that he wasn't hungry.

His thoughts were constantly on the next visit with Slade. He was nervous about it and unsure what to expect from the man. The first visit was strange in many ways. Of course, Robin had broken down in the man's living room – can't really get any stranger than that.

But the overall visit had been completely different from what Robin had been expecting.

Robin was lucky for the next two days; there was no crime for the Titans to deal with. If there had been, he probably would've come across some difficulty. Not because he couldn't handle himself. Not at all. No, there was a completely different reason why he would've had some problems.

He wasn't eating.

After his bout, he avoided food like the plague. Any time he said something that explained anything that wasn't the truth, his stomach would churn fiercely in protest against it. The thought of putting food into that environment was just not a good idea in Robin's mind.

So, he just told himself that he wasn't hungry; no matter how much his stomach protested otherwise. The other Titans didn't really notice anything off with him. He smiled and laughed with them, but excused himself when the others wanted food. Only Starfire visibly noticed something was off, but she didn't say anything; watching helplessly from a distance.

On the day he was to visit Slade, he found that his choice of not eating was catching up to him. His stomach was aching from not eating. But he refused it. Without realizing it, he was becoming more agitated by things. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that contributed to that.

New nightmares had been plaguing him; nightmares he hadn't had in years – ones that all included the death of his mother; the death of… John Grayson.

It was difficult trying to sort it all out in his mind. John Grayson had always been his 'Papa'. But he wasn't his father – Slade was. And no matter how much he hated it, he couldn't think of John Grayson as his father anymore if Slade was his real one.

What was Slade to be? As _if_ Robin would call the man Papa or Father or Dad. Those were terms of endearment; terms of acknowledgement. If Robin started calling the man any of those, then he was truly acknowledging the man as his father.

And he just wasn't going to do that.

This was Slade after all. Slade could never be that for him. He was Robin's enemy; his arch nemesis; the villain of the city. No matter what, Robin had a duty to protect the people of Jump City and even if he had to deal with this madman, then that's just what he was going to do.

But something deeper was starting to burrow into his heart without his knowledge.

Thus, that night, Robin was once again standing outside that door. He really didn't want to knock, but he really didn't want to stand outside this door for much longer either, wondering if Slade was going to open it. Was it pride? Probably. Robin was feeling more than irritable at that very moment. He had been shell shocked, so to speak.

Now, he was just merely irked about the whole thing.

The door opened, saving Robin from having to knock. Slade stood in the doorway and Robin was a little surprised to see the man's unmasked face. He was still getting used to that. Slade was once again wearing his similar fashion of varying colors, this time with a more standard style of tie.

"The door is programmed for your entrance," said Slade. "There's no need to wait for me to open it for you. You only need to enter the code into the keypad there."

Slade pointed to the electronic keypad next to the door. Robin raised his eyebrow at it.

"What's the code?"

"Richard."

_Huh?_

Slade turned away and walked into the haunt. Robin was left startled by the code name. After a moment, he slowly walked into the haunt and followed the man up the stairs. He had to place a hand on the wall to balance himself, trying to ignore the unsteadiness that flowed over his clarity of mind. He noticed that there was less clinking of gears as he walked into the strikingly different living quarters of the man.

As the door closed behind him, Robin felt a wave of awkwardness flow over him. It just was so darn weird. He was back again; he was back at Slade's home. He really was doing this. It felt so strange through it all, but Robin just wasn't sure what else to do. He couldn't overpower the man.

And he sure as heck wasn't gonna ask Batman for help on this.

Was that pride?

You betcha.

"Sit down. You hungry?"

Robin didn't answer, pulling off his sunglasses. Why was life always about food? Why did the center of life need to _always_ be about food? Why the heck did people need to eat anyways? It honestly was a real waste of time – especially when your body wouldn't accept the junk!

Robin just shook his head, but instantly he regretted it.

Robin swayed, the sunglasses slipping out of his hands; his head feeling extremely lightheaded. His stomach felt as if it completely hated him. He knew he should eat something, but he just felt too sick to his stomach to put anything inside of it. There was no reason to stick anything in there if it was just going to pop right back up again.

But a part of Robin knew the whole situation was getting worse and out of hand.

Robin was grabbed by the shoulders, strong hands steadying him. He looked up to see Slade; the man's expression looking concerned through the impassive barrier.

"Robin, what's the matter?"

"I'm fine," said Robin, trying to shrug off the hold on his shoulders. He managed it, but a second later he swayed again, feeling dizzy. Once again, he was steadied by those hands.

"You are not fine, boy," said Slade, sounding perplexed and even more worried now. "That much is obvious."

There was a deep rumble that tore through Robin's stomach. The raw ache of a pained, empty stomach ravaged through his insides. Slade raised an eyebrow, his visible crystal blue eye narrowing.

"Why aren't you eating, Robin?" asked Slade, his tone darkening.

"Look, I'm fine," said Robin, trying to shrug the man away again. This time Slade didn't let him go, but held him firmly with those strong hands. "I just didn't have dinner."

"You wouldn't be swaying like that after one missed meal," argued Slade.

"Whatever. It's not like it's any of your business," snapped Robin; tilting his head downwards. But Slade bent down slightly and cupped a hand underneath his chin. Robin stiffened by the touch; shocked by the gentleness and yet contrasting firmness within that touch. His head was forced to look back into Slade's face.

"It _is_ my business," said Slade; a serious light in his eye. Robin was almost completely drawn in. The man looked completely serious and committed to that statement. But then, something snapped inside Robin and he wrenched out of Slade's grip. However, his head lifted in that lightheadedness again and he had to steady himself with a hand against the wall. He had enough energy to glare up at the man.

"Really? _Really?_" snarled Robin. "Since when I am any of _your_ business? I'm not, get it? We're _nothing_ to each other. I'm here simply because it'll save the city."

"Are you always so… selfless?" asked Slade, putting his hands behind his back and straightening to observe him. "Do you never think about yourself; what your needs might be?"

"I don't have time."

"So, sacrificing the hero is worth it if the city is safe?"

"Yes!" cried Robin, his chest constricting.

Of course sacrificing the one was worth it to save the others. That's what it meant to be a hero. That's what it meant to pick up that mantle. Robin knew it; he accepted it; and he wasn't going to gripe about the hardships of life because of that choice. He could accept the consequences of his actions. That's what it meant to be an adult.

That's what it meant to be a hero to the people who needed someone to look up to.

Slade considered him for a few moments, watching him carefully. Robin stared back, not wishing to show weakness by averting his eyes. He would stare into that unbending crystal eye no matter what. He wasn't going to back down.

"Mmm, I think I don't like this," said Slade with a firm shake of his head "I might have to go back to my previous occupation."

"You cheating liar!" snarled Robin, slicing a hand through the air with his spare hand and pointing it at Slade. "We made a _deal_. I visit; you stop the criminal activity."

"But if you're sacrificed, then my tri weekly visitor is lost; and thus, the deal null and void," countered Slade.

"But—"

"I'm merely ensuring my interests of this deal," continued Slade amiably, lifting his shoulders into an elaborate shrug. "I'd prefer it if my little visitor was actually _alive and well_."

"Just what the heck do you want from me?" demanded Robin.

"Mmmm, let's start with… a little obedience?" said Slade, a hint of a smirk lifting his mouth.

Obedience? What the heck is that? As _if_ Robin was going to be a good obedient 'little boy' to this man. Slade seriously must have lost his mind. Robin would've bucked obeying the man even if he had gone through with the blackmail scheme—the _heck_ he was gonna obey now!

"Bull crap. Ain't gonna happen."

"Some respect would be nice, too," added Slade, as if it was a second thought.

"That's a good joke, Slade," said Robin in a mocking tone. "You're real funny."

"You should try it; the obedience."

"Just because you sired me," snarled Robin cruelly, "doesn't mean that automatically gives you authority over me. I don't accept you as my father."

There was a moment of injury that flashed through Slade's face. Robin blinked for a moment, a little surprised. It was so subtle, so quick that Robin almost didn't see it. But it had been there – Robin was sure of it. He couldn't understand it. It was like Slade was hurt by Robin's opinion on the matter. Surely not. Surely Slade didn't see the arrangement for more than what it was.

But…

What _exactly_ was this arrangement?

"I mean for simple things," said Slade finally, his eye filled with that impassive light.

"For example?"

"Like eating food for one."

"I did," lied Robin. The churning in his stomach responded to his lie; tossing and turning furiously at him. He hated this. Why did he keep doing this? Was he seriously turning into some type of compulsive liar? He never felt the need to always say the truth – or say exactly what he meant. Being a hero had taught Robin to be careful with his words, having learned to trick his enemies at times to capture them. Batman did this. So, why was it all starting to fall down on Robin?

Why was it starting to bury him?

And why couldn't he stop?

"You're lying to me," said Slade, his eye flashing with dangerous disapproval. "Do me a little courtesy and stop attempting to lie to me. You're an easy read, boy."

"Look, Slade," started Robin, feeling unnerved that Slade had pointed it out. "Stop trying to assert authority and power over me. I'm not gonna _obey_ you like a good little boy."

Somehow, a chilling silence filled the air at that pronouncement. Slade seemed to consider him and Robin had a fleeting impression of a predator eyeing its prey; sending multiple chills to slide down his back. Robin was visibly reminded that this man was _Slade_; the criminal he had been trying to take down all this time. Then, an interesting expression filled Slade's face. His eyebrow lifted, as a questioning, almost daring look crossed through his features.

"Mmm, then you ought to be punished," said Slade, his eye glinting dangerously.

Robin stiffened, thoroughly alarmed. That look was dangerous; that look was frightening; that look made him squirm; that look was strangely nostalgic – all too much how John had looked at him when he had been in trouble. How Slade was managing to make him feel like a petulant child was beyond him.

And beyond unfair.

"You can't punish me," snapped Robin, his tone full of incredulity; feeling extremely defensive and vulnerable under that unbending eye.

"Sure I can."

"You have _no_ control over me," growled Robin, his eye flashing in anger. "Don't you get that?"

"That's where you're wrong," said Slade, his face heavy with his confident smirk.

Oh, there was that panic again; that helpless feeling of panic where Robin felt as if he had no control over his life.

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Robin. Slade's eye softened and that frightening stance seemed to lessen with it.

"For your good," said Slade, saying each word with care. There was a stirring inside Robin's heart. He had to swallow for a moment, unnerved by the serious nature that Slade was taking on. Robin hadn't heard something like that in years. After all this time; after so many years without a real secure adult in his life – Batman didn't count anymore – _why_ did he have to hear it from _him?_

"I don't need you," said Robin, his chest heaving once.

"You need help," said Slade in that same serious tone.

"I'm fine. Look, I don't need your help," said Robin; his tone intensifying.

"You're being ridiculously stubborn, boy," growled Slade; frustration beginning to fill his features. Robin's chest heaved in his anger. Why couldn't Slade just leave him alone? Since when did this arrangement include Slade butting into his life? Just because Slade was his 'father' didn't mean anything! Robin wasn't about to be cooperative with him after everything he had gone through.

"_Just shut up already!_" cried Robin fiercely.

Slade sighed, sounding completely resigned to some unknown fate.

"Guess I have no choice, then."

He walked up to Robin, who stiffened as the man instantly clamped a hand on his neck. It wasn't painful or threatening; and yet, Robin all of the sudden became extremely wary of that hand, almost feeling like a little child about to be chastised for something.

How right he was.

Slade maneuvered him away and drew him to the wall at a corner. He lifted his hand and placed it on Robin's raven haired head, pushed his face into the corner.

_The corner_…

"_Slade!_" snapped Robin, trying to pull away from the hand. Another hand clasped his shoulder near his neck. Pressure was applied as Robin was incased in the corner; block on both sides by the connecting walls with Slade's dominating presence directly behind him. Robin swallowed nervously, feeling extremely vulnerable. The man could do anything to do. Slade was all powerful – that much he knew. He couldn't escape if the man didn't want him to.

And the man obviously didn't want him to move.

"Hold still."

"_As if!_ You can't put me in the _corner!_ Are you insane?! I'm sixteen; not _six!_"

"You need a time out."

"_Whoa_, you better quit patronizing me, Slade!" spat Robin. "This is ridiculous!"

"I'm not patronizing you, boy," said Slade with a heavy sigh. "I am trying to _help_ you, but your foolish pride and stubbornness is blinding you to that fact. Now stand there and think for a minute or I'm going to tell your friends of our arrangements."

"That's blackmail!" cried Robin, pushing against the wall with his hands. The hand on his neck never moved; the hand at the back of his head never moved. Those two hands kept him in place with terrible power, yet they did not harm him in any way.

"No, it's not. It's a consequence. You're destroying yourself. Your friends would want to know."

"I was fine before you showed up!" shouted Robin, his chest heaving greatly as he tried to turn and struggle against the man. He was held in place; still forced to face the white walls.

"Were you really?" whispered Slade. Robin stilled for a moment as he felt Slade lean down. The man softly whispered into his ear, the man's warm breath flowing over his skin; sending a chill down Robin's back. "You didn't feel the pressure under Batman's shadow? You weren't overworking yourself? Face it, Robin. I've been watching you. You've been suffering far longer and far before I showed up in your life. None of your friends noticed. Batman didn't even notice."

The heaving of Robin's chest didn't stop.

_Batman didn't even notice._

Batman was a sharp man. He noticed _everything_. He _knew_ everything and when he didn't, it wasn't long until he did. He was, after all, the world's greatest detective – nothing could be kept from his eyes.

But Slade was absolutely right and Robin hated him for it.

Robin clenched his fists as his sides. Batman hadn't noticed the spiral that Robin was descending down. He hadn't noticed the problems and stress that Robin had been putting onto himself. He hadn't noticed the emotional breakdowns that had happened in secret. It had been partly why they had separated in such a poor way. Batman never noticed what Robin needed and he had needed to continue being that man's partner.

But Batman didn't notice that and fired him after a fiasco with the local bloodbath nut, the Joker.

Batman had only see the situation as it was: Robin had disobeyed a direct order and had put people's lives in danger, including his own.

Robin gave his friends more credit, though. They could be a bit clueless at times, so Robin didn't fault them. Especially since he really hid it from them. He definitely didn't want them to know his problems and weaknesses. They needed to see him as their infallible leader.

Deep bitterness rose inside Robin's chest. What was Slade trying to do? Suddenly pick up the slack left by Batman? How stupid was that? There was no way anyone could change anything. He didn't need the man. He didn't need anyone to come and pick up his slack. He could take care of himself.

He was an adult now – adults didn't need other adults.

"This is bull if ever I saw it," growled Robin, anger licking his heart. "_What_, you suddenly find out you're my father, and then feel the need to swoop in and save me? Guess what, my dear _father_, you're fourteen years too late!"

There was a long measure of silence between them. The only sounds were the deep breathing that Robin was doing; trying his best to calm down. But he couldn't. His face was three inches from the wall and he was barricaded from behind. How the heck could he be calm in this situation?

Then, Slade broke the silence.

"What's the saying? 'Better late than never.' I am going to make an effort."

_Make an effort? What the heck!_

This completely sounded like some estranged father and son pathetic, drama filled _crap_. That's exactly what it was to Robin. There was no other name for it. _Make an effort?_ Since when did Slade want to make an effort with this development. Well, Robin didn't want that.

It was too dangerous.

"I don't want your _effort!_ And I'm not allowing you to subject me to this kind of childish crap."

"You can huff and squirm and shout all you want, boy," said Slade in a dangerous drawl. "But let's see you escape this. You will stand there until you're calm and until I say so."

"_Bull crap!_" shouted Robin, pulling his arms up to the wall and pushing back with all his mind. As _if_ he was going to stand here like a little kid! Slade had no right to do this to him; no right to exert authority over him; no right to 'discipline' him like this.

Who the _heck_ did this man think he was?!

But the hand on his shoulder near his neck tightened. Robin's head was forced forward by the hand on the back of it. The man's presence behind him was dominate; Robin could feel it completely. It was as if he were surrounded by impenetrable walls; a prisoner in the dominating force that stood around him. The panic began to rush through his entire body; his heart pumping rapidly. He was trapped – trapped between this wall and Slade.

So helpless.

And yet, he still struggled; anything to get out of the situation; anything to prove that he wasn't a helpless kid that was being forced to submit to this unbending authority.

Oh, but he was.

The strong, yet gentle hands held him in place; inflexible, unmoving in all aspects. Robin's breathing quickened as the panic licked at every section of his soul. He couldn't move. He was trapped. He was powerless against this man.

It wasn't fair!

Why was Slade doing this to him? What made him think he could do this to Robin? He wasn't a little kid that needed to be chastised for things; forced into obedience. Slade was a little late for that kind of crap, now wasn't he? Just three days and this man was trying to act like the all dominate father figure? _What the heck?!_ Robin didn't need that; he didn't need anyone rescuing him – _he_ was the rescuer!

But he was still trapped.

That's it. Time to move. New city sounded nice. Jump wasn't all that bad off like Gotham; residents would just have to live without them. How much would the Tower sell for? Hawaii sounded nice. Heck, Japan was even nicer and it was further away. Taking down trouble in Tokyo sounded fun. Maybe the Teen Titans could get lost in China. A Tower on Mount Everest would be insane; might learn how not to need as much oxygen to survive. Russia was cool; maybe they could freeze to death in the tundra of Siberia.

Anything to get away from this man.

_Anything_ to get out of this position.

"Calm down," said Slade in a soft, smooth voice. "If you calm down, you may leave the corner."

Anger burned through Robin's insides at the sound of that. He wasn't a little naughty kid here! He was _Robin_, the leader of the Teen Titans. How dare this man condescend and patronize him like this! How dare he force this lowly, even plebeian position on him!

"Stop it!" demanded Robin, fiercely struggling even more. "_Stop this!_"

"I won't."

"You can't keep me here like this, Slade!"

"I think I am."

"_Shove off, Slade!_"

"Lower your unyielding pride, Robin," whispered Slade. "Submit to it and _calm down_. I am only trying to help you."

"Who asked you to help me?" shouted Robin. "I never asked for your help! Just because we have a little more information about ourselves doesn't mean crap. I'm sick of this. Let me go! I'm not a kid!"

"Just calm down already!" snapped Slade, his tone becoming bitingly sharp. "You're proving that you are a kid with this immature struggling that you're doing here. Now cease this nonsense _immediately_."

Robin's breath hitched as his heart pounded furiously; Slade's words biting into his chest. He hated this. He _hated_ this. But that tone was more than enough to convince him to finally submit and obey. With a deep intake of breath, Robin leaned his forehead against the wall. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart.

Where did Slade get that authority? Was it automatically given to him by being a father? Was Robin, psychologically, already accepting that fact; that Slade was his father? It was so strange to Robin. He never felt this way around Batman. He was wary, yes, around the man; wary to obey – but there was something so strong, so unbending, so _something_ that demanded total respect and obedience within Slade's tone and voice.

Like Slade expected it.

Of course, so had Batman. But Robin had done so because he had felt the respect towards his honored mentor.

What made Slade seem so different?

The pressure removed from his neck and head, but Robin didn't move.

"Stay there. Just give yourself a few minutes to calm down," instructed Slade. "I shall trust you to obey this."

And obeyed, Robin did; completely giving up and giving in. He couldn't win against the man, anyways. He was too tired now. He no longer had the energy to deal with this – or _anything_ for that matter. He really did need a good meal, but he felt sick at the thought of food. All the twisting and churning his stomach did the past two days were enough to make Robin want to throw up yet again.

Robin rested his forehead against the wall, closing his tired eyes. He felt his emotions go haywire on him and he grit his teeth furiously. _No_. He was _not_ going to have another breakdown in this man's living room. No way. No way. _No way—!_

And it was that traitorous tear slipping down his cheek that was the complete cruelty of the whole matter. He hated this. With a quick, rough swipe over his face, he tried to clear it away before more followed. He focused on a spot on the wall, trying to ignore everything and anything. He was _not_ going to start crying _again_. Just wasn't going to happen.

But as Robin was subjected to standing there, he was also subjected to wiping away the tears that disobeyed his will. Luckily, it wasn't bad like the first visit. Somehow, he was managing to hold back the flood. It was only a few tears that were seeping through the cracks of his barrier. Enough to keep him busy, but few enough to keep his dignity.

Robin indistinctly noticed that there were sounds coming from the kitchen. There was the sound of a microwave being closed and starting up; a toaster being run. Time passed for Robin before he heard the chime of the microwave; plus the popping of the toaster.

"Robin, go sit down on the couch," said Slade.

Robin pulled away from the wall, blinking for a moment; slightly surprised that he was 'allowed' to leave his 'corner'. But he gladly obeyed this request. He plopped onto the couch with a sigh, stretching his stiff legs for a moment. He sniffled some, wiping his tears on his sleeve. Then, he noticed the box of tissues was still on the coffee table. He plucked a few from the box and dried his tears; blowing his nose once. He left the used tissues on the table and leaned against the back of the couch; staring up at the ceiling and trying to process what just had happened.

Better yet, it'd probably be wise not to think about it too much. Robin had no doubt he'd rather not analyze the whole nonsense.

"Sit up."

Robin looked up to see Slade holding a tray in his hands. He adjusted himself on the couch better to fulfill Slade's request. The tray was set onto his lap. Robin noticed that there was a bowl of chicken noodle soup with a slice of plain toast and a can of that same lemonade.

"Eat."

"But—"

"You're not a camel, boy," drawled Slade. "You can't go days without eating; you'll hurt yourself. Remember what I told you? Your emotions will be far more volatile if you _don't take care of your body_. You can't expect control if you don't take care of yourself. The soup is light; it shouldn't jostle your stomach too much."

Robin let out a grumbled sigh, but he didn't fight it. How'd the man know, anyways? Robin's face had been facing the wall – he definitely refused to say _corner_ – how could Slade have seen those evil tears of his? Without another word, he picked up the spoon provided him and began to eat. He could tell it was just your everyday canned soup, but the broth was thick and creamy; the noodles hearty. It wet his appetite more and he found himself eating with a little more zeal. His stomach seemed to gladly accept the sustenance.

Soon, it was all gone; his stomach settling happily with something to eat other than its own lining.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Six: Intervention – Fed up by Robin's lack of simple self preservation, Slade intervenes for his wellbeing – whether Robin agrees with him or not.

**Author's Notes:** Haha. The corner… *snickers* I'm so bad, aren't I? I love messing with Robin's head like that. Hey, some people prefer to shock collar torture the poor boy in their fanfics and I prefer to drive him crazy and embarrass him.

Hehehe…

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	6. Intervention

**Author's Note: **Thanks a ton for all the lovely reviews! I'm so glad that you're all enjoying this story as well. ^.^

Haha, naw, it's not bad for wanting more parental moments with Slade and Robin. Why? Cause I want that, too. Hehe! No one ever really does it much with an older Robin – only those deaging stories. And another reason why is because it's just too darn fun. Heh…

Hehe! ^^

To the Guest with the request: A story where Red X and Robin are blood brothers is actually very interesting. I haven't ever come across that before. Could you give me the story IDs to the ones that you did see? I'd like to read them to see a bit what the premises have been like. As for actually writing a story like that, I'm not fully sure with the many, _many_ projects I have going on – both fanfiction and originals – but I'll definitely consider it. ^^

As for being stressed… Naw, not really. I view what I'm doing as a type of schooling for myself; training myself in becoming a better writer and with keeping writing deadlines. Seems like I've been doing pretty well with that aspect of it. LOL. Let's hope I can start doing that with this story. ^^

Mmm, what are some other stories like this? LOL, I dunno, you tell me. ^^; I haven't actually seen a huge story like this with Robin and Slade - thus, the reason why I'm writing it. :3 But if you're looking for another Robin and Slade story of mine, I do have another one in the works called _Forgotten Bonds_, ID 9195663.

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Intervention**

"Feeling better?" asked Slade in a light tone after Robin finished with his soup and toast. Robin was currently sipping his lemonade and decided that was the best excuse he had for not answering. He didn't feel like talking at that second. And he did _not_ want to ever remember what had just happened. He wanted it blown from his brain permanently. The very thought that he had been subjected to something so juvenile was completely horrifying.

It chilled him to his very core that Slade had such authority over him.

"Why haven't you been eating, Robin?" asked Slade, his tone turning serious. The man was sitting in the single arm chair, watching him carefully. Robin turned his eyes to the side, not wanting to speak about it. There was no need to talk about it anyways. But he could feel the man's single eye boring deep into him. A few quiet moments passed. Unable to handle that steady eye any longer, Robin finally spoke up.

"It's not like it's any of your concern," said Robin in a soft voice, continuing to keep his eyes averted from the man.

"You haven't been sleeping either, have you?" said Slade, ignoring Robin's brush off. "You have dark bags under your eyes."

Robin tried not to bite his lower lip. Why was this man getting up into his business? So what if he wasn't sleeping much still. He was only supposed to visit; not unload his entire life onto the man or get crossed examined by him. It wasn't any of Slade's beeswax what was going on in Robin's life. And why did he care anyways?

"It's not any of your business whether or not I eat or sleep," growled Robin in a low, icy tone. Slade's eye narrowed darkly.

"I think we've established that I take your health _very_ seriously," said Slade, his expression frowning slightly. Robin was a little unnerved by the sincere and sober tone in the man's voice. "Anything that would jeopardize your visits is part of your end of the deal here."

Right. Slade only cared about the deal. Big surprise there. It shouldn't have surprised Robin. Of course Slade only cared about whatever this deal entailed. However, there was this constricting feeling inside Robin's chest that he was trying to do his best to ignore.

Slade's face softened and he turned it to the side slightly.

"And I am… _personally_ concerned for your health.

_Huh…?_

Robin blinked once.

_What?_

Slade was… 'personally concerned'?

Somehow, the constricting feeling inside Robin's chest began to loosen. But then an unhappiness rose in its place. If the man cared so much about Robin, then why the heck would he blackmail him? What kind of person would do that? Or had Slade's opinion changed simply by the mere fact that Robin was his real son?

What was so important about that?

"You blackmailed me with my friends' lives," said Robin, feeling the bitterness rise inside his heart.

_Why? If you really cared about me, then you wouldn't have done that._

But Robin understood that Slade hadn't known beforehand. Would the man have still gone through all the trouble if he had known just a little earlier? Slade had told him that he would've raised him if he had known earlier. But what if he had found out around the time Robin had first met him?

How would've events turned out then?

Slade inclined his head for a moment, considering him. Then, he nodded.

"Yes, I did."

"Why would you do that?" asked Robin, looking up into the man's visible crystal blue eye. That eye clouded over for a moment. Then, Slade leaned forward; resting his elbows onto his knees and interlocking his fingers to set his chin on them. There was a deep sigh from the man.

"I wanted you," whispered Slade. "I wanted your skills, your talents, your partnership, your respect, your admiration – perhaps without even realizing it, I always wanted to be your parent… your _father_."

Robin's eyes widened, swallowing once at the sincerity in those words.

Was Slade serious? This was Slade, after all. Did he really love Robin's mother that much that he would want to be the father of her son no matter what? If he had truly wanted it, why hadn't the man shown up sooner in his life? Where had he been all these years? What was so important that he could only allow himself to watch Robin's growth from a distance?

Somehow, Robin wished the man had been a bit more assertive with the whole thing.

"You sure have a weird way of going about it," muttered Robin, averting his eyes from that intense, immeasurable eye. He didn't want to look inside the man's soul anymore. He was tired of seeing things that he never would've imagined in that eye. He just wanted to see Slade; the worst criminal in Jump City.

But he was starting to see so much more than that.

"Indeed. But I've never done things the conventional way," said Slade with a shrug.

_No freakin` duh, old man._

"What were those chips for that you had Red X steal?" asked Robin, changing the subject. He didn't want to hear the man talk more about things that sounded as if he regretted not being in Robin's life. It just sounded too much like Slade was really trying to make an effort in the relationship.

And Robin just wasn't ready for that.

Slade's countenance changed. Robin saw pained anger flash over his face. But then, it was quickly stuffed back behind that impassive stance. Slade let a smirk lift his face as he rose from his position and leaned back in the arm chair; crossing his legs and folding his arms with an air of pretension emanating from his person.

"Back to that, are we?"

One: either snap back at the man who was currently more annoying than a persistent rock in his shoe; or two: try to coerce the information out of him.

Time to play at Slade's game.

Robin shrugged lightly and put on a disinterested air.

"What else are we gonna talk about?" asked Robin, sounding bored. "The rain in Spain?"

Slade snorted and shook his head. He merely lifted his head to the side in a knowing smirk. Robin got the impression that the man knew exactly what he was doing.

Geez, imagine spending years with this man who could read him like a book. Never would've gotten away with anything…

"I suppose we could discuss it," said Slade; the side of his mouth lifted in an amused smirk. Robin felt a twinge of irritation at the smugness in the man's tone, being reminded all too much of the man's usual manner when he was _Slade_, the criminal the Teen Titans dealt with.

"Well, go on, then."

Slade let out a chuckle which then turned into light laughter. Robin's eyes widened at its sound. It was smooth and coaxing, even warm. There was something undeniably warm about those sounds that lifted into the air and settled over him.

Robin's chest constricted again.

"I have my reasons for wanting those chips," said Slade, through his small laughter. "None of which concerns you at this time. Ask me something else."

Robin frowned, his eyes narrowing; completely not liking the sound of that.

"And just why not?" snapped Robin. "It's not like you need them anymore. You said you'd tell me about them."

"Oh?"

"_Yeah!_ Remember our deal? You don't need those chips while I'm visiting," insisted Robin, his chest rising in his frustration. He then leaned forward and set strong eyes onto the man; making his tone deadly serious. "And _I_ don't plan on backing out on my word."

Slade raised an eyebrow.

"Are you suggesting that I am?"

"Sure sounds like it," said Robin, his eyes narrowing.

"I told you I'd abstain from criminal activity," said Slade with a shake of his head. "Those chips have nothing to do with that."

"Of course they do! Stealing is criminal!"

"There's no need to steal them," commented Slade, that smirk tugging even harder at the edge of his lips; a light shrug lifting his shoulders.

"But—" Robin stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowing even more. "Wait a minute… You already _have_ those chips, _don't you!?_"

"It's a possibility," said Slade, sounding greatly amused.

"Give them back!" cried Robin.

"I see no reason to do so," said Slade, the amusement sliding away as his eye darkened. "I stole those before this agreement."

"_Hold up_—how the heck did you get past the Teen Titans!" demanded Robin. "We never got an alert that they were stolen."

"That's because I went in _myself_," said Slade, his eye glinting suggestively. "I didn't send any clumsy robots to do the job and I also swapped the chips."

"_Give them back!_"

"Is there an echo in my living room?"

"_Slade!_"

"Calm down, boy," said Slade, his eye narrowing as he sent Robin a disapproving, dark look. "I don't suppose you remember just where you were standing a few minutes ago? I won't sit here and take disrespect."

Robin's stomach dropped.

The man was serious. That look in his eye was telling him exactly that. Slade was truly pulling his father mode all over him; those fatherly vibes overbearing and poisoning in their intoxicating natures. Slade expected Robin to be respectful to him or else the man would shove him into a corner like a naughty five year old.

Holy crap, what did Robin sign up for here?

"_Give. Them. Back_," growled Robin calmly, glaring at the man and willing his eyes to set the creature in front of him on fire.

Too bad he didn't have those powers.

"I will not," said Slade.

"And just why not?!"

"You still don't know what those chips are, do you?"

"I will once you tell me!" snapped Robin furiously, his temper rising even more. "Hurry it up!"

Slade's eye turned icy; instantly sending a terrible chill down Robin's back. Slade set a single finger on him, pointing at Robin over a stern frown.

"One more chance."

Robin tried not to swallow nervously.

Whoa, this was _not_ fair. The way Slade was looking at him made him feel completely edgy. It was that helpless feeling of bending to authority no matter how much he hated it or how much he didn't want to. Slade couldn't do this to him! Robin wasn't some little kid here and just because of the whole new development, it did _not_ give Slade the right to become more authoritative over him.

But the consequence of going against this man, who _was_ getting more authoritative over him, didn't exactly thrill Robin at that moment – not after experiencing it once.

Once was enough.

"Tell me what they are," said Robin, making his tone calmer. He bit his lower lip for a moment before pulling back all his pride to release one more word, "_Please_."

There was a long quiet moment between them. Slade appeared to be considering him heavily. Robin laced his tongue over his lips, wetting the dryness. After another long moment, Slade spoke up.

"Classified military technology," said Slade, drawing each word out carefully and smirking deeply. Robin's jaw dropped as he absorbed the implications of that.

"_What?_" breathed Robin, slumping back against the couch. "But there was never… There was never any indication… of that."

"Of course not," drawled Slade. "Classified information of that sort isn't to be known to the world. It's _classified_. They kept it _hidden_ for a reason."

Robin's brain sped through this new information. Slade had wanted – and now _had_ – classified military technology. A chill slid down Robin's back. He couldn't help but berate himself. _How stupid he'd been!_ How could he have stolen technology without knowing what it was? What if he hadn't been able to get them back? It was besides the point that Slade went and got them himself afterwards – Robin was still responsible for this mess.

He was a terrible leader! He had put the people of this city in jeopardy – and _he_ was the one that was supposed to protect them.

What was Slade planning to do with classified military technology? What kind of weapons technology was in those chips? Just what could be held within those chips? How many lives would be threatened by Slade having that kind of power?

"Well, how did you know?" asked Robin, trying to hold back the panic that was rising inside his chest.

"I've been… watching the military for a long time now," said Slade, his jaw tightening as he spoke. Robin saw a flash of pain, sorrow, and deep fury in the man's eye. There was such deep injury within that eye, Robin wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Why do you want those chips?" asked Robin, saying each word with exactness.

"That's not for your ears."

The panic intensified.

"Now that's where we'll differ in opinion," said Robin; his clenched fists trembling in his lap.

"We will at times," said Slade in an offhanded manner. The panic was replaced with anger. Robin tried his very best to hold back a growl; gritting his teeth furiously.

"Tell me now," commanded Robin in a low tone.

"It's not of consequence to you."

"The _heck_ it's not," snapped Robin, thoroughly irritated now at being blown off by this man. "I'm the leader of the Teen Titans; the protector of this city. You stole _classified_ military technology. Who knows what you're planning to do with information like that. What _are_ you planning to use that information for, anyways? Another plan to destroy the city and hurt the innocents there?"

"I've told you before," said Slade, his eye turning icy dark as it narrowed. "My plans have _never_ included destroying this city or any city for that matter."

"Yet why does every plan you show up with have something to do with some kind of destruction of this city!" demanded Robin in a drawl.

"Mmm, call it… unfortunate contingencies."

"—_the heck is that?!_" shouted Robin, jumping to his feet. "How can you be so indifferent about this? _It's destruction, for crying out loud!_ It's not a _'Whoops, my mistake there. Lemme fix that.'!_ What the freaking heck is wrong with you?!"

Slade stood up, his crystal blue eye flashing dangerously. As always, he towered over Robin, his full height at least a foot taller than his. Robin just glared up at the man, completely forgetting every warning the man had given him; too overcome in his fury.

"I don't have to take disrespect in my own home."

"_Oh, is that right?_" drawled Robin, folding his arms and staring up at the man with an insolent expression. "Where do you usually take it?"

Slade's eyebrow twitched.

"That's it," snapped Slade. "I've had it."

"Wha—"

Slade marched to Robin in a single stride. Robin pulled back from the towering presence that suddenly looked _extremely_ frightening. In one swift movement, Robin was grabbed around the waist and lifted into the air. He was tossed over Slade's shoulder to hang there, his legs firmly held in the man's arm. The distance to the floor seemed endlessly long as Robin dangled over the man's shoulder.

"Slade! What the heck are you doing?!"

But Slade didn't answer as he marched down the hallway; his arm firmly clamped behind Robin's knees. Robin did his all to kick with what leverage he had; failing and struggling as he pushed up against the man's shoulder. No amount of his struggles ever loosened the man's grip on him – there was just no getting out the man's iron grasp.

"Let me down!" cried Robin, anger and panic mixing together in a deep whirl inside his chest.

Still no answer came. Robin wasn't sure what the man was going to do and the panic overpowered the anger inside his heart. Never had he felt this helpless. He was dangling over this man's shoulder like a sack of potatoes, feeling just as useless in a fight against him.

Never had he felt so little and young; making his heart frightened at such a terrifying and vulnerable reversal.

Robin heard a door open and then a second later he was tossed off the man's shoulder. He landed onto something soft, bouncing a couple of times. He jerked his head up to look at the irate man who stood over him.

"Go to sleep!" snapped Slade sharply, pointing at him. "You grouchy, petulant little _brat!_"

Robin glowered at the man for a moment before he quickly glanced around the room; noticing that it was a bedroom and that he had been thrown onto a bed.

"I can't sleep here!" protested Robin, looking back up at Slade.

"You can and you will," said Slade, his tone stern as ever. "I'm tired of dealing with a sleep deprived little kid."

"You can't keep me here!"

"_Watch me_."

"I am _not_ sleeping here."

"I'm not above gassing the room," said Slade, his eye flashing dangerously. At Robin's widening eyes, a small smirk lifted the man's mouth. "Oh, yes; I'll gas you if I have to. Sleep. Do us _all_ a favor and get some rest, you cranky little boy."

"I—I can't sleep in your bedroom," cried Robin.

"It's not mine. It's yours."

Robin stilled, his eyes widening as he stared up at the man. At this, the man's expression softened and he averted his eye from Robin; glancing to the side slightly.

"What? When…"

"I've had it prepared… ages ago," said Slade, his tone softening. "It was to be your bedroom when you became my apprentice."

_What…?_

Robin looked around the room in shock; taking in the décor. It was a decent sized room. The bed was in the middle of the room in front of the door. There was a white dresser at the end of the room to Robin's right. Next to it, there was a white shelf with a number of books on it – with plenty of room for more. To Robin's left, there was a large wooden desk. He blinked in surprise to see a desktop computer set there with a large flat screen monitor.

The room had a homey, yet clean feel to it.

_Slade had this prepared for awhile now?_

_But why? He didn't even know he was my father then. So why? Why would he even care about me? Was it just because I was Mama's son?_

"I—I can't stay here overnight," protested Robin, unable to sort out his feelings on this matter. "The Titans will worry about me again. They'll wonder—"

"Mmm… Call them and tell them you're spending the night at your… therapist," said Slade, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

"My _therapist?!_ _No freakin` way!_"

"Either that or tell them you're spending the night at your _Daddy's_ house."

"_Slade!_"

"Make your choice, boy," said Slade, his eye glinting dangerously. "Either way, you aren't leaving until you've had a proper night's sleep and are sufficiently fed. I won't stand by and watch you fall apart right before my very eyes. I will end this nonsense of yours."

'_I will end this nonsense of yours.'_

Somehow, Robin felt the same way about the man's crime escapades. But the way Slade had said that both frightened him and brought that same constricting feeling inside his chest. He was frightened at just how powerless he was against this man, but he was also startled that the man wasn't using it to bring harm to him or the other Titans.

Robin just couldn't understand Slade's motives.

So, he stared at the man. The man stared back.

Well, that was that – he was stuck.

This man was going to hold him hostage like this; force him to stay against his will; make him tell his friends another lie. Just what was he going to do? Deep down, Robin knew the man was only trying to help – which, in the first place, he couldn't understand why – but that didn't mean Robin had to stay here. He needed to go home.

The Titans would wonder what was going on and Robin couldn't keep burying himself beneath lie after lie; and yet he did.

And he was going to do it again.

"Fine. Give me a freaking phone already," snapped Robin, letting extreme disrespect flood his tone. Slade raised an eyebrow at him, but Robin didn't waver beneath it. He was thoroughly irritated at that moment and no amount of dark glares that Slade sent him could clear it.

So, Robin merely obstinately stared back.

The man left the room without another word. Robin contemplated darting away, but he figured the man could catch up to him and he honestly didn't have the energy to outrun the man. There just was no getting out of this and Robin was doing his best to bury that helpless feeling that was constantly eating at him underneath his anger. A few moments later, Slade showed up at the entrance of the doorway. He tossed Robin a cell phone. He caught it and looked down to see an expensive smart phone.

"High tech here," said Robin, slightly in mocking; looking up at the man. Slade merely shrugged and pointed at the phone.

"Hurry and call. I want you in bed."

"I am in bed," said Robin in a haughty, belligerent tone.

"Don't sass me, boy," warned Slade, his eye narrowing. "Hurry and call your friends before _I_ make the call. And I assure you, you will _not_ like what I say."

Robin tried not to utter a curse at the man as he dialed Cyborg's number into the phone. Bile rose in his mouth as he tried to figure out what to say to his friend. He sure as heck wasn't going to say that he was staying with his _therapist_. That definitely made him sound… unhinged and there was just no way he was saying that.

But what could he say?

"Uh, hello?" came Cyborg's voice through the phone.

"Hey, Cy; it's Robin."

"Robin? What's going on?"

"I, uh… just wanted to call and let you know that I'm staying… at a hotel… on the far side of town. It'd be too much of a bother to come to the Tower this late so I'm just bunking out here."

_One more lie to add to the ever growing pile._

"I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

"Uh—"

"Bye!"

Robin quickly ended the call before his friend could ask him any strange questions. The churning in his stomach was happening again and he wasn't sure if he was going to throw up that soup now. He sent a glare at the man that was studying him from the doorframe.

"There," snapped Robin, chucking the phone grudgingly at Slade; who caught it without a second blink of his eye. "Happy?"

"Pleasantly."

….….…

"Well, that was weird," commented Cyborg as he set his arm down.

"What was?" asked Beast Boy.

"Robin just called and said that he wasn't going to be home for the night," said Cyborg, scratching his head for a moment. "Said that he was staying at a hotel for the night because he was too far away to get to the Tower at a decent time."

Raven lowered the book she was reading, frowning slightly. Beast Boy, who was sitting on the couch, turned around from playing his video game to look at Cyborg. Starfire was currently working in the kitchen and appearing to avoid biting her lower lip.

"The thing is, the number wasn't a hotel number," said Cyborg, with a pensive look on his face. "Surname was Wilson. I doubt there's a hotel named that."

There was silence throughout the room for a moment.

"It's like he's… lying to us," said Cyborg in a low whisper; sounding hesitant, as if the information sounded forbidden.

Yet more silence flooded through the room; bearing an ominous weight. Starfire gave in to biting her lower lip as she pulled out a median sized glass bowl from the bottom cabinet. She couldn't understand what was going on with Robin. Lying? Since when did he lie to them?

But then, thoughts of Red X filled her mind. She understood that he had only used that alter ego to try to get closer to Slade, to find out what the criminal was up to – but he still should've trusted them to help him. They wouldn't have held back in their fights against Red X even knowing it was Robin. They would've been an excellent team and proven that they could put on the greatest of deception against Slade.

But Slade had been too smart for Robin. What was Robin doing now that made him feel that he couldn't trust them with that information? What was so secretive that Robin couldn't share things with them?

Or with her?

"Well, it's obviously now," said Beast Boy finally in a decidedly confident tone, turning back to his video game.

"What is?" asked Cyborg.

"What Robin's been up to."

"And that is?" asked Raven in her deadpan voice.

"It's totally obvious that he's got a girlfriend. Why else would he wear civilian clothes?"

Breaking glass shattered through the air. The other three turned to look towards the sound. Starfire was standing in shock, her hands holding empty air as she stared wide eyed at Beast Boy. The changeling's words reverberated throughout her mind, incessantly repeating its cruel sounds.

_Girlfriend…_

Cyborg sent the changeling a sharp glare, who in turn ducked low on the couch, his ears drooping.

"I doubt it's a girlfriend," said Raven, glancing at Starfire for a moment. "He's not acting like that."

"Sure he is!" piped up Beast Boy without thinking, whipping back around to lean on the backing of the couch. He lifted a hand and started counting on his fingers. "He's totally evasive, doesn't answer our questions truthfully, wearing normal clothes, staying out late every night – it's obvious he's keeping something from us and I think it's a girlfriend. What else could it be?"

"Shut up, BB," said Cyborg darkly, flicking his eye once towards Starfire. Beast Boy was still clueless to it, though.

"Why? I'm just talking—"

"Well, don't," said Raven, sternly overriding him. Beast Boy huffed with a pout, turning back to his video game with a number of grumbles about everyone ganging up on him. Cyborg glanced over at Starfire, who was trembling. Then, she leaned down and began to pick up the shatter glass. Her trembling fingers weren't careful and she gasped as glass sliced through her finger, a thin trail of blood forming on her skin.

Pain, in more ways than that cut, began to pool through Starfire.

She felt a heavy hand rest on her shoulder, causing her to look up. Cyborg was standing over her with a concerned look on his face.

"It's okay. I'll clean it up. You should go bandage that."

Starfire only nodded, slowly standing up. She turned away, leaving the main room without another word. She put her cut finger into her mouth as she walked; sucking on the blood that tickled from the cut.

While it shocked her to hear what Beast Boy had said, she didn't think Robin was seeing… one of _those_ – or at least she hoped. But it just didn't seem like that, as Raven said. When she had helped Robin through his sickness, it just didn't seem like that was happening. She had never seen Robin like that and it had pained her heart so much, especially when he pushed her away – or at least tried to. She could tell that he didn't want to seem weak in front of her – she herself understood never wanting to show others her weakness. Such things were greatly frowned upon on her home planet.

Weakness created an opening for an enemy to take hold and destroy you.

But Starfire wasn't an enemy. She was a friend; a _best _friend – one that wanted to lend a hand when the other faltered. Somehow, Starfire had this deep feeling in her heart that told her something more was bothering Robin than he was letting on – _much more_.

She only wished he would open up to her.

….….…

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Seven: Backhanded Ambiguity – Relationships become strained as Robin continues with his next visit – both the budding relationship with Slade and the established relationships of the Titans.

**Author's Notes:** Alrighty then, let's see how this goes. I'm gonna promise that I'll update next Tuesday. Let's hope that'll work out. Aheh. XD

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Tuesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	7. Backhanded Ambiguity

**Author's Note: **Thanks a bunch for the reviews and all the support! I really appreciate it. ^-^

Wow, I made it for the Tuesday update. *sighs a breath of relief*

And just so ya'll know, I'll never write slash with Robin and Slade. So, like I've said before – _quite a bit, in fact_ – whatever I write with these two is completely innocent; _especially_ in this story since they are _related_ and are biologically father and son. :) I ship Slade/Robin Father/Son relationship good and hard, ya know. XD Best kind of Robin and Slade - too bad it's a rarity. :/

Oh my gosh, I cracked up so bad at the wishing of another walloped Robin. ROTFL. Man, that is so adorably funny. Actually, in this story he's 16. He's quite different than FB's Dick. I'd say FB's Dick is actually far more sensitive and kind then this Robin - this Robin is far more hardened. Heh, and yeah. Robin can be a bit immature. *giggles* But he didn't grow up in a steady home after the death of Mary and John.

Actually, to be honest, I don't think I've actually met fully mature people before. XD Adults included! LOL

And as much as I'm quite used to writing FB's Slade taking a firm handed control over FB's Dick, in this story there will be no corporal punishment of that sort. You actually learn why in this chapter. :3

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Backhanded Ambiguity**

Robin was lying on his belly underneath the covers at that moment. It was early morning and he had slept pretty well during the night – which he just couldn't understand. What was it about this place that let him sleep unimpeded? Why couldn't he sleep this well back in his room at the Tower? Where were all the nightmares that haunted him? Why was there this stilling peace that flowed through the air around here?

And what was so special about the soft, calming detergent fragrance of the comforter in his bed?

Robin set his face inside his pillow and breathed in deeply. Was this what living here smelled like? The scent reminded Robin of honeysuckle mixed with lilac; soft and soothing as it wafted over him. Those flowers had been his mother's favorite flowers and she had decorated their home with it them often.

Did Slade know that?

Did he choose that laundry detergent because it reminded him of Mary? It was such a calming fragrance; such a peaceful one; such a beautiful one that Robin hadn't been able to fight off sleep for long last night – no matter how much he wanted to in his defiance against Slade.

What was so special about this place?

Robin rolled onto his back and slowly sat up, looking around the softly lit room. There was a single window on the right side of the room – next to the book shelf – and there were streams of light softly lifting from the window into the room. Robin pulled his legs to the edge of the bed, pushing back the heavy comforter to stand up; readjusting the very large and very baggy pajama clothes Slade had lent him – _thank goodness _that man didn't also have a complete wardrobe for him. That would've been freaky. Robin walked over to the window and looked outside.

The view was beautiful.

Robin had a full view of the ocean over the tops of countless buildings that took up residence in Jump. The sky was dappled with deep cerulean blues and laced with lilac violets. The upper clouds were becoming shaded with orange gold from the sunrise that was currently rising in the east.

Robin leaned against the ledge of the window as he watched the water, glancing a few times at the enormous tower, Titans Tower, that was standing on an island out in the bay.

Robin wasn't sure what to do anymore. Two visits and he was already beginning to second question himself. The range of his emotions flittered back and forth worse than a pinball machine. He had never felt so many emotions before in such a short amount of time.

There were so many times when he was curious, startled, drawn, helpless, angry, defiant, confused, wishing, hoping – so many feelings, so many moments to question, to understand, to decipher.

Just exactly who was Slade? No matter how many moments he spent with the man, Robin just couldn't fully understand the man. He truly was an enigma. The man seemed to have so many secrets and Robin felt as if he were only scratching the surface of those secrets. At times, he was so curious and so drawn to the man, he forgot just who exactly this man had been to him.

But then, there were those many times when the man completely irked him; irritating him to no end. The unknown about Slade frightened Robin. Being helpless against stopping the man should he choose to do something dangerous was all too apparent in Robin's mind. Robin knew he should do all he could to get on the man's good side, but he couldn't help but clash with him.

This was Slade, after all. It'd be completely weird if Robin suddenly was all hunky dory with the whole arrangement, now wouldn't it?

Just wasn't going to happen.

But would it? Would Robin someday be comfortable with saying, "Yeah, Slade Wilson's my father." Could he ever truly be happy with it? Would he ever get along with the man? It always seemed as if there were these soft moments, only then to be wiped away by an intense one.

Robin just wasn't sure what to do anymore about this. Should he tell his friends about this arrangement? He was constantly telling them lies – could he really clear the cobwebs and reveal to them what was really going on?

Or would he become trapped in the Spider's Lie to be drained of all his life energy?

With a sigh, Robin lifted away from the window. Unfortunately, he was just going to have to take one day at a time. As each day passed, the harder it would become to reveal his lies, but it also gave him another day to figure out what he should do.

He was definitely stuck between a rock and a hard place, as the saying went.

Being morning and feeling the need to relieve himself – in more ways than one, but he could only deal with the one at that moment – Robin walked to his bedroom door. He opened it and gave a startled jolt to see Slade standing there, just about to knock on the door.

"Oh, m–mornin`," said Robin, taking a deep breath and trying to stuff the nervous feeling that was rising inside his chest.

"Good morning," nodded Slade, lowering his arm. Robin couldn't help but take in the man's appearance. It was so… casual. The man was wearing a burnt orange silk robe that was trimmed with black, the straps loosely wrapped around his waist. Robin could see a little into the man's upper chest and was once again reaffirmed just how powerful this man was – and it made him feel uneasy once again.

But then again, if this man was his father, would Robin reach that level of strength?

"Halloween year round there, Slade?" asked Robin, letting a light smile lift his mouth. Slade raised his eyebrow, looking slightly amused by the rib.

"I like what I like," said Slade. Then, a wry smile completely spread through the man's face. "You are no different, Mr. Traffic Light."

"_Hey!_ My colors aren't traffic lights!"

"Red, green, yellow. Stop, go, slow down – _pretty much_," drawled Slade.

"They're my mother's colors," snapped Robin, crossing his arms. "I picked them because she always wore them during her performances."

The color drained from Slade's face.

Robin was shocked by the sudden change in the man's face. Slade looked completely horrified by something and Robin wasn't sure what it was. He couldn't believe he was seeing this. Slade looked so sorrowed by Robin's words.

The man turned his face to the side slightly, taking a deep calming breath for a moment. Then, he set his gaze back on Robin; the color returning to his skin.

"Forgive me. I hadn't realized it," said Slade in a soft undertone.

Now Robin was officially and thoroughly confused beyond all measure. This man, _Slade_, _apologized_ to him? How was that even possible? The man seriously had just apologized. Robin never imagined ever experiencing such an oddity. He knew it. He must've traveled to some far out universe. There was no way this man, of all men – well, Batman included here – would apologize; stoop low enough to admit their mistake.

But Slade had.

Robin's chest constricted again; that same twisting in his heart. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He couldn't understand. He didn't know what more to say, what more to do. This man was startling him in so many ways. Slade truly was so different than Robin had imagined. The image of the criminal was so far different than the actual man.

What made the man act so differently?

Slade's single eye narrowed for a moment as he tilted his head to the side slightly, studying him. Robin suddenly felt odd and awkward as he looked up at the man. He was startled when Slade's hand reached to his face and brushed a rough finger along his cheek.

"You're getting a shadow there," commented Slade. "I'll lend you a fresh razor."

Heat rose inside Robin at those words.

His face had turned completely beet red by the time Slade removed his hand. His face felt terribly warm to the tips of his ears and he ducked his head as he felt the embarrassment flood over him. He felt so horribly awkward and uncomfortable – and definitely not wanting to say why, either. He never imagined discussing such things with anyone – not even Batman. Discussing his shaving habits was _not_ something he wanted to talk about with _Slade_.

Even if the man was his father.

Slade raised an eyebrow.

"What's the matter?"

"I'll—I'll shave at the Tower."

"No need. You can do it here."

"Rather not."

"Why?"

Robin flushed even more and mumbled softly; hoping the man would catch a hint already.

"What was that?"

Robin closed his eyes, the heat flooding upwards even more to the very edges of his ears. The man was really going to make him talk about it. The man was really going to get up into even more of his personal business. Why did Slade even care? This was a bit much, seriously. First taking a strong interest in his eating habits and sleeping habits, and now this? What the heck was going on here?

But the man's inquiring eye was more than enough to break Robin.

"I've… I've never shaved with anything other than an electric razor," whispered Robin, wishing the man would just leave him alone now. "I don't…"

Robin let the embarrassment overflow his senses as he kept his head down. It wasn't his fault that he never shaved with a normal razor before. It wasn't like he couldn't, he just felt uneasy with using such a sharp object on his _face_. The electric razor that he used was an expensive dry one – he could afford one – so he wasn't even used to working with shaving cream.

"Oh," said Slade, his single eye blinking. It felt so weird; it was as if you could cut the awkward air around them with a knife. Then, Robin felt the man place a hand on his shoulder. Robin slowly lifted his head as the man continued. "I'll help you then."

_Holy no way in heck, no!_

"_No!_ No–no!" cried Robin, putting up his hands. "It's okay. I'm fine. I–I–I—"

"Calm down, Robin. It's not a big deal," said Slade, his expression relatively impassive through this. "I'm your father, aren't I? It's my job to show you how it's done."

'_I'm your father, aren't I?'_

And there it was again; that constricting, twisting feeling inside Robin's chest. He watched as the man turned away to walk down the hallway slightly to go into the bathroom. Robin closed his eyes for a moment. Oh, gosh. This was seriously happening. Slade was going to try to teach him how to… how to… _shave_. How embarrassing was that! Robin had a _very_ strong desire to start banging his head against the wall. He so needed to get out of here. He couldn't _shave_ with the man – how… how…

What exactly did it feel like?

Robin opened his eyes, gazing straight down the hallway to look into the living room. He knew what it felt like, but he never thought he'd ever get a chance to feel it. Batman hadn't exactly been attentive to those types of needs. Robin knew that Batman didn't know anything about children or raising kids. Alfred had been good for those things, but whenever he tried, Robin avoided the old butler like the plague.

Robin had held such things close to his heart, only wanting to experience them with his father – who he had thought was dead.

But Slade was very much alive and was very much his father, but that didn't really mean Robin was exactly ready to let the man just slide into being a parent, being a father to him. He didn't need one now. He certainly did eight years ago. He certainly did six, even four years ago. Robin could even admit that two years ago he would've greatly benefited from a steady father in his life.

But it was too late now – sixteen was too old for such things.

However, it seemed that Slade wasn't thinking along those lines.

"Come on, Robin," said Slade, peering out of the bathroom and motioning to him. "It'll be easy once you get the hang of it."

It was really happening. It was _really_ happening. Oh _gosh_. It was _seriously_ happening! Robin clenched his eyes once and slowly began to walk to the bathroom. Somebody shoot him; put him out of his misery, _please_. He stood outside the doorway of the bathroom, placing an unsteady hand on the doorway – feeling ready to bolt away at any second.

The bathroom had double sinks with a large mirror over it. Slade was shaking a bottle of shaving cream and already had two razors set out. Robin 'inadvertently' _thumped_ his forehead against the doorframe; more than once, in fact.

Somehow, at that very moment, dry heaving in front of Starfire sounded like a stroll in the park.

Slade turned and motioned for Robin to come into the bathroom; gesturing at a razor.

"There's a fresh one for you," said Slade.

He could do this – this wasn't that hard. This was only _shaving_ for crying out loud. Awkward, _yes_. But he could handle it. He was Robin, after all. He faced way harder things than this before – shaving in this horrendously awkward situation was _easy_.

_He could do it_.

Thus, Robin walked into the bathroom and stood next to Slade in front of the mirror. He endured listening to the man walk him through certain things for a few moments. He just kept his mouth shut; praying to every known deity above that this would go by as _quickly_ as humanly possible. Where was a little speed boost from Kid Flash when you needed it?

But, actually, it was soon that Robin found the information useful. He quickly got the hang of it, too – just like Slade had said he would. It wasn't so awkward anymore when Slade began to shave with him. In some moments, he would feel a small twinge of awkwardness lick his heart; but mostly what he felt was that same constricting feeling that his heart would undergo.

Was it the feeling of wishing for more moments like these?

Surely not.

Robin watched the man as he carefully shaved around his goatee on his chin. The man was very particular and precise; his focus perfect as he did his job without error. In some ways, Robin felt that it seemed like so much effort for just some fancy facial hair. He was also surprised that the man could concentrate on his face so well while at the same time send Robin instructions.

It wasn't _as_ bad as Robin thought it could've been.

By the end, Robin thought he did pretty good. He didn't get any major cuts – just a few nicks here and there. Slade even complimented him on it. Robin rinsed away the remnant of the shaving cream, letting the cold water splash over his face. Well, if Robin was honest with himself, the whole event could've been far more awkward. He rinsed his face with cold water, letting out a small sigh as the cold water ran over his face.

"Why do you use a normal razor instead of an electric one?" asked Robin as he lifted up, cold droplets slipping down his cheeks. Slade merely shrugged.

"Just do."

"Well, why?"

There was a soft chuckle.

"Man of habit, I guess," said Slade, tossing Robin a small soft towel. Robin used it to pat his face dry, curiously looking up at the man that was standing next to him. A moment later, Slade continued, "I suppose I prefer the fresh, clean feeling I get after a regular shave. You just don't get that after an electric one."

Robin watched as the man patted his face dry; Robin did the same, watching and observing everything in silence. Even though his initial awkwardness had left him, he still found the whole thing a little strange. It felt so normal – like a daily activity that one would…

Like one that a son would do with his father.

Robin pushed that thought into the back of his mind, trying to ignore it. Slade placed his hand towel onto a rack. Then, the man took a step closer to stand in front of him; lifting a small bottle. Robin lifted an eyebrow at it.

"What's that for?"

"Aftershave. For all those nicks you've got there."

"Hey, I did pretty good my first try," protested Robin.

"You did," nodded Slade, squirting some of the crystalline yellow gel into his hand. Robin noticed that it didn't look like any store brand that he had ever seen – almost looked homemade. The man rubbed a little of the gel over the tips of his fingers. A moment later, before Robin could protest the small invasion of his personal space, the man began to rub his cheek with the substance. Robin instantly winced as his skin began to sting lightly.

"But that doesn't mean you did it perfectly. Let me work it into those obvious nicks and then you can finish it."

Robin had to endure a few moments of the man working the gel into his face; seriously wishing that he could back away, but found that he couldn't bring himself to do it. There were a few points where it really stung his face. He hissed and jerked his head away at a particularly nasty sting. Slade merely chuckled and motioned with a finger.

"Come back."

"No way!" complained Robin. "That stuff stings like crap!"

"Let it do its job. The alcohol in the aftershave disinfects. I do this after every shave."

Robin groaned and let the man continue with his tyrannical skin rubbing; hissing a few times as the man's gentle, yet brutal fingers glanced over a sensitive nick. But after a few more moments – which seemed like ages – Slade withdrew from Robin's stinging face.

Then, Slade grabbed the bottle again and squirted another small amount into his fingers. He motioned to Robin as well.

"Hold out your hand."

Robin did so. Some of the gel was squirted into his hand. The gel was cold, but slowly warmed up to his skin.

"Use a little," instructed Slade, setting the bottle aside. "You don't have to use all of it. Use your fingers to rub it into your skin."

Robin watched as the man used a little and began to rub it into his face with the tips of his fingers. Slade was thorough as he rubbed it into his skin. Robin was slightly impressed as the man didn't wince once as his fingers ran over more sensitive areas.

Robin looked down into his hand, looking at the gel.

A strange swell lifted his chest; a butterfly fluttered inside his stomach.

Was this what it was like? Was this what it was like to stand next to your father in a simple morning routine? Was this what Robin had been missing all those years? Would this have been a daily occurrence? Would Robin have stood like a man next to his father and participated in such a ritual? Would his mother have giggled at the doorway at her two gentlemen? Perhaps even taking a photograph to commemorate the occasion?

Was this what it was like to have a father in his life?

The twisting inside Robin's chest tightened even more, so much so that he had to look away; his heart screaming inside. He had to stop this. He had to stop thinking like this. He was falling deep into a trap – a trap that held nothing but pain and more pain. How many times did he need to reassure himself that he didn't need a father? How many times would his heart falter and try to convince him otherwise?

He was too weak. He needed to be strong. He didn't need this weakness. Yes, needing a father was weak – there was no doubt about that in Robin's mind. He couldn't be weak. It was just not allowed.

Heroes weren't weak.

Robin pushed his stormy thoughts away and experimentally sniffed the aftershave. He wasn't really one for these types of things, but he found he liked the smell of this – a mixture of vanilla and that same honeysuckle. He dipped a finger into the soft, crystalline gel and slid it across his other fingers. Carefully, he began to rub the aftershave into his face.

He had extra after he was done and washed the leftovers away with the cold sink water. His cheeks were stinging; buzzing with a light tingling burn. He wasn't quite sure if he was enjoying that sensation. But it felt as if it wasn't going to last that long. He rubbed a hand over his cheek and couldn't help but be pleased with the whole outcome. It felt _so_ smooth – far smoother than the way he normally did it. The process was definitely different than his usual way of shaving with the electric shaver, perhaps even a little more trouble. But somehow, it seemed a bit more satisfying, more refreshing – just like Slade had said; his face really did feel cleaner.

He saw Slade stroke his own cheek for a moment before the man smirked at him; patting that cheek once.

"Smooth as a baby's butt."

Robin's mouth dropped slightly, startled by the term. Then, there was a firm pat on his upper back and a momentary squeeze.

"Good job," said Slade, a hint of approval escaping his impassive tone. Robin was stunned as he watched the man leave the bathroom. There was a swelling inside his heart at those words. His chest was constricting again, twisting even more furiously; crying out to him and pleading with him to give into the weakness.

And for a brief moment there, he almost did.

Robin turned his head to the side, taking a deep heaving breath in effort to expel such feelings from his soul. It was just a simple morning shave. That was all. There was no earth shattering moment here. Shaving with the man meant _nothing_. It was nothing. Simply that.

Right?

Robin walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom that Slade had said was his. He closed the door behind himself and took another deep breath. He was going to remain calm and objective through this. This was Slade. This was the man that he had been obsessed with taking down with all his power. The man was a criminal. Robin couldn't forget that. Slade wasn't supposed to seem human.

But was he really seeming like that? Why was the man showing Robin so many different sides that seemed to be overshadowing the Slade that Robin had been chasing? Robin just couldn't understand what was truly happening here.

What was he going to do now?

Robin quickly got dressed; not wishing to shower here – _not a chance_. No fresh clothes anyways. There was no way Robin was going to let the man convince him of that. He placed the pajamas that had been lent to him on the bed, folded nicely – least he could do. Robin noticed that the stinging in his face was indeed beginning to fade. Thankful for that, he walked out of the bedroom and darted into the bathroom, finally able to relieve himself – after not having that chance since Slade had stopped him. Afterwards, he continued down the hallway to see the man in the kitchen cooking again.

Worried that Slade was going to make him that rich breakfast yet again, Robin spoke up.

"Um, I can just have cold cereal or just eat at the Tower."

"I have something light for you," replied Slade, stirring something at the stove. Unconvinced, Robin went to the man's side to investigate the food being prepared. He was surprised to see something like cream of wheat inside a pot on the stovetop.

"Uh… I don't really do well on—"

"Whole wheat? I know," said Slade, finishing for Robin; who blinked in surprise. "This is cream of rice."

"How'd you know?"

"Mary."

"Ma—Mother was allergic to wheat?" Robin had to hurry and amend himself midsentence. He had almost called his mother 'Mama' – something he never wanted to voice out loud around others. How Slade knew so much more about his mother than he did was just something Robin couldn't understand.

"Yes. I didn't doubt that you would be, too," said Slade. "You should stay away from eating too much white flour as well. Like pizza."

"Hey, I do fine on that," protested Robin. "There's nothing wrong with pizza. It's got all the four food groups. Besides, you fed me white bread the first time I came here."

"Define _fine_, boy," drawled Slade, tilting his head to the side to look down on him. "Fine as in breaking down when your blood sugar goes down? Pizza is nothing but a sugary junk food that'll spike your blood sugar, which makes it crash harder. That's not fine. You and your friends consume way more pizza than is healthy for you."

"Pizza is all right, all right?"

"Articulate there, aren't we?"

"_Hey!_ You're the one who's all like _'define fine'_ here."

"I was doing that on purpose."

"Well, so was I!"

Slade snorted, shaking his head before his shoulders began to tremble in his efforts to hold back the laughter. Robin raised his eyebrow, thoroughly confused and slightly indignant that the man was laughing – no doubt at _him_. Finally, Slade couldn't hold back much more and the sounds of his smooth laughter escaped his lips. Robin felt the heat rise in his face.

"What?" demanded Robin. "What's so funny?"

"You."

"_Me?_"

"Yes, _you_," began Slade, shaking his head once as he managed to push down the laughter. "Just like me when I was your age."

Robin opened his mouth, but found that nothing could come out. He closed his mouth for a moment, letting those words sink in. _He_ was like _Slade_ when the man was his age?

"Just like me," said Slade, his crystal blue eye softening; shaking his head once more. "Hot headed, determined, driven, focused – so very much alike. Although, I think I was a bit more rowdy than you. Got into a lot of trouble when I was your age."

"Really?" asked Robin before he could stop himself. He bit his lower lip in the attempt to hold back. He found that he was curious to know what this man was like when he was teen, but at the same time that opened another window to his vulnerability, to that overwhelming weakness that was constantly trying to tear him down.

"Picked a lot of fights with boys who were older than me," chuckled Slade. Robin's mouth twitched for a moment. He endured the restraint for a few moments before he gave into it.

"Did you win?"

Slade laughed – completely _laughed_. The man dropped his hands onto the edge of the countertop and hunched over as he continued to laugh. It was genuine, almost hearty in its smoothness. The man's shoulders shook in his mirth. Robin was completely overcome by those sounds. He was startled by hearing so many different types of this man's laughter.

His chest constricted again.

Robin didn't have anything to say in protest against that laughter. He just listened to it, trying very hard not to imagine what it would've been like living with this man for all those lost years.

Finally, Slade began to slow down in his laughter. He was shaking his head, still chuckling strongly.

"I'm sorry," breathed Slade. "That just amused me greatly that you would ask that."

Robin blushed and ducked his head. He hadn't meant to ask, but he sort of blurted it out. Was it really a funny question? Seemed pretty natural to Robin – but then again, the person he was asking was _Slade_.

"I won them all," said Slade, his mouth lifted in a smirk; his tone hinting a touch of pride. "Every last one of them."

Somehow, Robin believed the man.

Slade stirred the cream of rice inside the small pot before turning off the heat. He kept stirring as he pointed to the cabinet.

"Get two bowls out, two spoons, and a knife."

Robin obeyed; opening the cabinet and finding a stack of white heavy plastic bowls. He pulled out two just as Slade pulled the cream of rice off the stovetop and grabbed a hot pad out of a nearby drawer. Slade set the pot onto the middle countertop on top of the hot pad. Robin rummaged around the drawers before finding the one with the silverware. He grabbed two spoons and a knife, while Slade grabbed a couple of bananas and a small pouring jar.

Robin tried to ignore the odd feeling that was rising in his stomach at the thought of eating with this man yet again. He followed after Slade to the table before he wordlessly sat down in a chair. His leg automatically began to bounce in his nervousness. Slade dished out the cream of rice into the two bowls. Robin wasn't sure if he was going to like it, but he wasn't going to complain. Just eat and leave. That was it.

_Just eat and leave._

Slade handed Robin a bowl before sitting down with his own at the other side of the small round table.

"Um… where's the sugar?" asked Robin, feeling a little strange asking for it. But still, he would've preferred his cream of rice with it. There was a small smirk on the man's face as he passed Robin the small pouring jar. Robin raised an eyebrow at it.

"What's this?"

"Honey."

"But… what about some sugar?"

"Use the honey. Refined sugar will spike your blood sugar," said Slade, smirking still. Robin narrowed his eyes at the man. Slade seriously was getting deep into the interfering business here, now wasn't he? Who was he to tell Robin what he could and couldn't eat. As if sensing Robin's thoughts, Slade spoke up. "Just use the honey, boy. It's better for you."

Then, Slade stood up with a banana and knife in hand. The banana was peeled all the way by the time Slade was standing beside Robin. The man quickly bent over the bowl that held Robin's breakfast and began to slice the banana into the bowl. A moment later, Slade took the honey and drizzled it over the bananas and cream of rice. He side it aside and pointed at the bowl.

"Try it."

A mixture of feelings were rising inside of Robin as he watched the man slice that banana. Trying to ignore them yet again, Robin wordlessly began to eat, taking a big spoonful of banana with it. It was good. But Robin kept quiet, afraid that he was going to lose control over his feelings. He wasn't going to think about anything. He was just going to eat this breakfast. He was going back to Titans Tower afterwards and he was going to forget about everything until his next visit. There was no need to over think all this.

Right?

Robin quickly ate, keeping silent through it all. Slade was the same, for which Robin was grateful. He was getting that awkward feeling again. One that told him that he was once again falling into a trap. Well, he just couldn't let that happen. No matter what.

Once Robin was done, he stood up and took his bowl to the kitchen sink, rinsing it carefully. His mind was in such deep thought, trying to keep such thoughts at bay, that he didn't notice Slade placing his own bowl into the sink. Robin couldn't help the tiny startle that went through himself. He took a moment to turn his head to the side, his chest heaving. It was then that his thoughts completely overtook him.

The biggest thought that was plaguing him was questioning the past. In some ways, he felt cheated. He had been cheated out of a father. Sure, he didn't need one now – needing a father now was just weakness. But what about all those years before. Where had Slade been? Why hadn't he gone after Mama? After his coma, why hadn't he tried to go after her? Who cared about another guy – Robin would've confronted the woman he loved in a case like that.

"Slade," began Robin before he could stop himself; his voice low and deep. "Why didn't you try to talk to my mother after you woke up from your coma?"

Slade stiffened beside him. Robin could feel the rigidness flowing over the man. It was a pretty invasive question, Robin figured, but it was a legitimate one. If Slade had spoken to her, maybe everything would've been completely different. Maybe Robin would still have a family. Maybe his mother would still be alive.

There were so many possibilities if Slade had just gone to her once and talked with her instead of running away.

"There were a number of reasons why I didn't," said Slade in a low undertone. "Looking back, of course I regret my action."

_Reasons?_ What kind of reasons could've kept a man away from the only woman he had ever loved?

"What kind of reasons?" asked Robin, feeling a little annoyed at the vague response the man was giving him.

"Reasons," said Slade. "Ones that I just can't explain to you."

"And why not?" snapped Robin, feeling the heat of frustration rise inside his chest. He deserved some answers. After being cheated out of his proper father, the least the man could do was lay the truth out. Robin could've cared less what the reasons actually were in some ways. He just wanted an _explanation_, something that perhaps could tell him that there had been a valid reason why his destiny had been different than the ideal one.

"There were so many factors," said Slade with a shake of his head. "You wouldn't understand."

"It sounds like there was something more important than your family," said Robin, his chest heaving once in his anger.

"There were many circumstances surrounding my awakening," said Slade, his tone rising. "I told you, there were a lot of things going on at the time and none of which I can truly explain to you."

"I think that's a cop out!" cried Robin, glaring up at the man. His heart constricted furiously as he continued to speak. "What was so important that you couldn't try to go after Mama?" Robin was so deep in the moment, he didn't notice the slip of his tongue. A flash of anger crossed Slade's face. "You basically abandoned your wife and child!"

"I didn't know you were my son then!" snapped Slade, turning to face Robin completely.

"Some excuse that is," retorted Robin. "I thought you were supposed to _love_ her. How could you abandon her?!"

"You don't know what it was like," snarled Slade through gritted teeth. "You have no idea what was going on, what chaos was happening after I woke up."

"All I'm hearing are more excuses of why you didn't go straight to see Mama," cried Robin, his clenched fists flexing at his sides. "You're a coward!"

Slade looked livid at those words, but Robin continued without thinking, words flying from his mouth without his control.

"I don't even know what Mama saw in you," cried Robin, his heart twisting; the pain ripping apart his soul. "To put other things before her, being a coward in facing her – she must've been completely blind and crazy to even consider a jerk and coward like you!"

The instant those words left his mouth, he regretted them. His heart dropped to his stomach in his immediate remorse. They were cruel, untrue words and he knew it.

And it seemed that Slade took great offense in them.

A hand cracked across Robin's cheek, blasting his head to the side by its force. Pain exploded through his skin. Robin's hand automatically lifted to his cheek to hold the stinging skin, looking back at Slade with wide eyes. For a moment, they watered from his surprise and regret that instantly filled his chest. The look in Slade's eye told volumes of his feelings. The man, while normally impassive, looked terribly hurt, angry, and shocked. The slap itself hadn't been rough or anything like Slade's true power. It had been sharp in its reproof, but not harsh.

Slade turned to the side, his chest heaving once as his clenched fists trembled at his sides. Robin didn't say anything; wanting to apologize, but the words stuck in his throat. He kept his hand at his face and discreetly rubbed the stinging skin with his fingers. Then, after a few quiet moments, Slade spoke; his voice low and hoarse.

"Forgive me. That was unacceptable behavior on my part."

Robin's eyes widened more. The man had just… apologized? For slapping him? But he completely deserved it. Those words had meant to wound and he had no business wounding others with his words. It wasn't like slapping him was abusive or anything. Batman had done so on many occasions.

"No…" whispered Robin, dropping his hand; the sting in his cheek slowly fading. "It's my fault. I deserved that. I was disrespectful and hurtful. I'm sorry."

Slade looked back at him, a stern light flashing inside that crystal blue eye.

"No matter what you said, I should not have struck you. That is _unacceptable_."

"Look, it's not a big deal, Slade," said Robin with a disinterested shrug. "Not like I haven't been slapped before."

It was definitely true. Smart mouthing Batman was not a good idea when the man was already in a bad mood. There were a few times when on patrol when Batman reproved him for not listening to him and even Alfred had once slapped him when Robin had been especially vulgar to the old butler. It wasn't a big deal; Robin couldn't understand why Slade was so remorseful over it.

"That might very well be true," said Slade, his eye darkening, even to the point of anger – but somehow, Robin knew that anger inside the man's eye wasn't directed towards him. "But a father should _never_ strike his son out of anger like I just did. _Never_. That was completely unacceptable and I don't want you to ever expect that I would do it purposely. I lost myself. I will aim to do better next time in controlling myself."

Shocked even further by those words, Robin was stilled by the look in Slade's eye. There was a dark light inside, a knowing light. There was something so haunting in that look, as if Slade had perhaps… experienced something like that. Understanding began to flow through Robin. Had Slade once been struck by his own father?

"You act as if you've had experience," whispered Robin reverently.

There was stillness between them. Slade didn't move at all; the light unchanging in his eye. Then, Slade looked to the side and nodded slightly.

"Your biological paternal grandfather was a worthless man," said Slade, speaking in a low, deep voice; void of any softness. "He was cruel and tended to enforce his rules and expectations with a belt."

Robin sucked in his breath, his eyes widening.

"But he did something even more unforgiveable that made me disown him," said Slade, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I do not consider him my father. There is another that I…"

Slade visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple contracting once. His chest hitched once and the man turned away. Robin could see the man's clenched fists were trembling terribly at his sides. Unable to hold himself back, Robin spoke up after a few moments.

"Another man you consider a father? Were you adopted?" asked Robin in a soft voice. There was a long moment of quiet between them. Robin waited, wondering if the man would ever answer him. Finally, there was deep heaving sigh and a hoarse answer came.

"Maybe another time."

Robin accepted that answer. He understood all too well how painful the past was to talk about. He could feel the pain the man was feeling; the deep sorrow emanating from his person. Robin couldn't help but think that the man had lost the one father figure he had looked up to – Robin could completely understand that.

"I'm sorry about what I said," whispered Robin. "I didn't mean it."

"You meant it," said Slade, his voice impassive. "You wouldn't have said it otherwise."

"No, I didn't," said Robin, his voice becoming stronger. "I didn't mean it. What I said were lies. I'm sorry."

_I'm always lying lately. It's not really a big surprise that I threw lies out in anger. Since when has the truth been so hard to say?_

"Don't bother," said Slade, his voice terribly low. "They're true, anyways."

Robin's lower lip trembled once; hating himself for saying cruel things – it didn't matter who they were thrown at, he shouldn't have said them. The man looked completely broken by them. Because of his words, he had deeply wounded another person. That was no better than taking a knife and stabbing the man.

"They aren't true," said Robin, his voice strong. Slade lifted his eye to look down at Robin, slow surprise beginning to flood through the man's expression. "I know my mother. She wouldn't have chosen you if those things I said were true. I'm sorry."

There was a long pause before Slade gave him a single sharp nod. He turned his head away afterwards, taking a deep breath. The silence felt extremely awkward to Robin. The day was passing and he needed to get back, but a part of him still wanted to stay; still wanted answers to so many questions.

But then again, it was only the second visit. There was plenty of time for the answers to be revealed, no matter how much Robin wanted them to be completely stripped of their mysteries and veils right at that moment.

"I'll try to find an proper explanation to give to you," whispered Slade after a few moments. Robin's eye widened. "Just give me a little time."

Robin nodded. "Okay."

He turned away from the kitchen and walked past the middle countertop. As he passed the table, picking up his sunglasses and putting them on, he spoke, "Thanks for breakfast."

Then, he reached the door.

"I'll… I'll come back in two days," said Robin, his hand on the door handle; glancing back at Slade. He noticed the man nod his head once before Robin turned out of the room. He tried very hard to push his confusing thoughts out of his head as he walked out of the haunt, but to no avail. His steps along the path back home were slow and steady. He was too deep in thought as he returned back home to the Tower.

So much had happened that morning. He subconsciously rubbed his cheek for a moment, feeling the smooth skin against his hand. How strange everything was. How many more things would Robin learn about the man? How many more glimpses into the man's true soul would he see?

Would it ever be okay if he didn't hate that soul?

Robin walked into the Tower and was immediately assaulted like the other night he had stayed at Slade's. Except this assault wasn't exactly as warm as the first. The group looked uneasy as they greeted Robin. Each would barely look him in the eye before averting their own; only to glance back nervously and hesitantly.

What the heck was going on?

Robin raised an eyebrow at the group.

"Did somebody die?"

"N–no, why'd you think that?" asked Cyborg, looking uneasy; his hand rubbing against the back of his neck.

"Gee, dunno," drawled Robin with a smirk. "The air around you guys totally spelled trouble. What's going on?"

There was an awkward silence as the Cyborg glanced at Raven, who in turn glanced over at Starfire, who in turn looked away.

"Robin, do you have a girlfriend?" piped Beast Boy, completely ignoring the awkwardness between the other three. Robin's face instantly snapped to look at Beast Boy, thoroughly alarmed. Right after, his glance immediately went to Starfire. And then it came: the flushing heat that flowed over his face in its merciless fashion.

"No, I do not have a girlfriend, Beast Boy," snapped Robin, punctuating each word carefully; his face beyond heated from his blushing. "No way do I have a girlfriend. Just put that out of your mind."

"Then, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing," said Robin flatly, his expression darkening. "I called Cyborg to tell him that I was staying at a hotel and—"

"That's the thing…" said Cyborg, looking extremely hesitant; but then, his expression turned serious. "The number you called from – it's not a hotel or a payphone. There was only a surname and it said Wilson."

Robin's heart dropped inside his chest; pounding furiously against the cavity. His mouth went dry; a desert of dryness completely sticking the inside. His thumping heart began to palpitate furiously; panic flooding through his system.

Of course there was something called _caller ID!_

Stupid, _stupid, stupid!_ How stupid Robin had been! He shouldn't have called from the man's _cell phone_. What if Slade had used his first name, too? What would've happened then? _Slade Wilson_. It's not like they knew many Slades around here. Slade wasn't a common name. What was he supposed to tell them now? They knew he had lied about the hotel. What was he going to tell them? What would he say to cover up his lie? Would he lie again? Get buried again? What to do—what to do—_what to do!_

"Robin, are you all right?"

Starfire's gentle voice broke Robin out of his panic. He glanced up at Starfire, who was touching his upper arm concernedly. Her monochromatic green eyes were filled with such softness and also pain. Robin hated himself. He wondered if she was hurting knowing that he had lied to them. But what was he supposed to say? He couldn't tell them yet – _not yet_. He wasn't ready. He couldn't handle it.

He was just so confused with it all.

"I… uh…"

"Robin," started Cyborg seriously and Robin looked up at the older teen. He found that he couldn't swallow. "What's going with you? What aren't you telling us? You… You lied, didn't you?"

Now Robin had to swallow. He could feel the saliva slide down his swollen throat, a lump building up inside.

'_You lied, didn't you?'_

—What are you going to do now?

_I… I don't know._

His inner voice spoke volumes, drowning out all known senses. It taunted him with accusing tones, bringing further guilt and self hatred.

—You lied to your friends. You are _completely_ horrible, you know that, right?

_I… I know._

—What are you gonna do now? _Lie_ some more?

"I…"

Robin's eyes glanced over at Raven, who was remaining silent through it all. She was staring intensely at him, her deep purple eyes studying him carefully. Robin grew even more alarmed. He couldn't help but wonder if the empath could read his feelings and perhaps even his thoughts. But he knew she wouldn't invade his privacy like that.

Still… the way she was looking at him completely unnerved him.

"Look, I don't have a girlfriend," said Robin in a low undertone – that much was true; that much he could say.

"But you weren't staying at hotel?"

"I—" Robin hesitated before he shook his head. "No, I wasn't."

"Where did you stay?"

"I can't say."

There was a small uproar over this answer.

"Just why not?" snapped Cyborg.

"_Dude!_ How come you can't say?" complained Beast Boy.

"I just can't," grounded out Robin, trying extremely hard not to growl at his friends. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

Raven's eyes narrowed as she continued to study him.

"What are you hiding, Robin?" asked Raven.

Robin nearly closed his eyes at that moment. Leave it to Raven to get right to the point – direct to the heart of the problem. She could read anyone like a book, couldn't she? Robin took a deep breath and started to walk past the group.

"I'm not hiding anything," said Robin; his voice soft. He walked past Beast Boy, who frowned for a moment; his nose sniffing once.

"Dude… are you wearing… aftershave?"

Robin froze.

His heart literally stopped inside his chest. Here he had convinced them that he had no girlfriend and he just _had_ to be wearing aftershave. He seriously wanted to drop his face into his hand. Why was everything so difficult? Why couldn't Robin just outright tell his friends what was going on? Why couldn't he be honest with them? Why did he have to play this lying game?

But the moment Robin felt like opening his mouth and bearing his entire soul to them, logic and fear grabbed a hold of him; binding him down. The truth was far more frightening. He could lose his friends because of it. They would be even more angry with him. They would look at him with terrible distrust in their eyes and they wouldn't understand the odd need that Robin was feeling – the need to continue with these visits, to shatter the mysteries that clouded over Slade.

And the mysteries that surrounded Robin's own identity.

"_Look!_" snapped Robin, whirling around. "There are some things I just can't tell you guys. So, just stop interrogating me! I shaved. End of story. I do it all the time here." Robin's eyes glanced over at Starfire. "All you need to know is I don't have a girlfriend. But I can't tell you what's going on."

"Well, when will you be able to?" demanded Cyborg.

"I don't know…" said Robin, his sharp tone dropping like a rock. "_I don't know_. Just give me some time. I need _time_."

Robin turned away. He stopped from taking a step forward when Starfire's soft, yet injured voice wafted over him.

"Robin…"

Robin bit his lower lip.

"_I'm sorry_."

He took a step forward, not looking back. He couldn't look back. She'd unravel him. She would unravel all his resolve in keeping his secrets, in keeping his lies. Only she could do it. There was no standing against her.

Robin walked into his room and leaned against the door once it automatically slid closed behind him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly; pulling his sunglasses off as he leaning his head against the door. Everything was getting worse. _Everything_. So many questions to ask. There was no one he could go to for advice – but then, he had to remind himself that he was too old to ask for help. He didn't need help. He didn't need advice.

And yet, why did he feel so helpless, so at a loss? Wasn't he supposed to be strong? He was supposed to know what to do in life. He was the leader of the Teen Titans. He could outdo any villain that decided to crash here in Jump City. Protecting the city was the one thing Robin knew how to do and knew how to do well.

But then, Slade had to show up and completely turn around every known reality inside Robin's mind.

Robin walked to his bed and collapsed face down onto it; dropping his sunglasses onto the end table. He rolled over onto his back and stared up at his darkened ceiling; his mind whirling with so many thoughts. Without his permission, his thoughts flittered back to his visit with Slade.

He couldn't believe what he had learned about the man. It was all too shocking. He never really imagined anyone coming from an abusive home, but for it to happen to Slade who was, in essence, close to him, was a little humbling and worrying. No wonder the man looked shocked after he had slapped Robin. What promises had the man made to himself that he would never harm his own children?

Robin couldn't help but feel the remorse inside his heart.

But now there were more worrying things on his mind. Raven had been watching him carefully and Robin was extremely nervous that she was going to confront him about things. The empath could completely read him like a book – that much was all too obvious. She had that look in her eyes that just spelled trouble. Would his secret be safe for much longer?

If not, just how would it all turn out?

….….…

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Eight: Wayward – Sixteen year old Slade Wilson is a regular trouble attracter. But home life isn't exactly all that wonderful - in fact it's horrible; and it only gets worse when he experiences the most terrible betrayal a child can go through. A blast into the past to 1989 – the first chapter exploring Slade's early life.

**Author's Notes:** *giggles* My father would always say that after shaving when I watched him shave as a little girl. I just had to put it in there. It's so hilarious – especially coming out of Slade's mouth. LOL.

And since this Tuesday worked out, I'm once again going to promise for next Tuesday. Good grief, this is a bit nerve racking. XD Next chapter should be fun – writing from the POV of a smart mouthed 16 year old Slade. Never been done before, right? 83

Thanks for reading! Next update will be on Tuesday! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	8. Wayward

**Author's Note: **I have to say, thank you so much for this latest bunch of reviews. Because of them, the final pieces fell together of how I want the entire plot to play out. I'm excited! Thank you so much! ^-^

_Sooo_… As I was trying to write this _colossal _chapter, I realized that pushing 14k+ for a chapter was just a bit too much for me. So, I had to split it into two. The development of just how cruel Slade's father was very important. Sorry, but the meeting of certain characters will have to wait until the _next_ chapter. Gomen, ne, **XxPhoenix FlightxX**. ^^; But the good news is your favorite characters get _a lot_ of 'screen time' so to speak. ^^ The two of them just would _not_ shut up. And I mean _a lot_.

And as for when it all comes crashing down on Robin, my readers of _Forgotten Bonds_ should know by now how much I draw things out. :3

It should also be interesting to note that I've not read _one_ DC comic in my entire life. And I probably won't either—_good grief_, what are those writers on? More weird drama than a soap opera.

So, actually, I have no idea what the comics are like with Slade, 90s or otherwise. The only Slade I'm aware of is TT Slade and whatever I've gleaned from wikis and other fanfics. I've crafted this Slade's personality to coincide with the past I've crafted for him. His past has gleaned bits from canon – like what'll happen with his father – and what I've created for this story. But to be honest, I really don't know what Slade's _really_ like, you could say. And neither of my Slades are that monologuer in TT. LOL

**Warning**, physical abuse on up ahead. Also, you might find terms you don't recognize. I fished out some old lingo from the 80s and tried to incorporate it into Slade's language and thinking. ^^

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Wayward**

**January 9th, ****1989****. Monday, 10:04 pm: 24 years into the past.**

"You want a fresh one?" snarled Slade, lifting back his fist against his opponent. The older teen shook his head rapidly as blood trailed from his nose. His left eye was swollen shut and sickly bruises were already showing up on his face. Slade shoved the teen out of his grip. "Good, then bounce. Get out of my sight, you tard."

The older teen scrambled to his feet and fled. Slade smirked at his victory; wiping the blood from his mouth. That punk totally nailed him one, but Slade completely did him over real good. That idiot was gonna be hurting so bad in the morning.

Heh, and that punk was a jock, a senior to boot – and Slade had just totally handed him his butt in a fight. Freshly sixteen years old and Slade Wilson was already making himself a name amongst the older chumps at school. But they all were pathetic and mental. They offered no challenge to Slade. It was always the same. Slade would send out his challenge and every single one would fall in his dominance. He was the best fighter around.

But they still wouldn't let him on the team.

No matter how times he beat them, showed them how far superior he was to them, he just wasn't allowed on the team. Nothing he did could convince them otherwise. No team would take him. Boxing, wrestling, football – the list went on. _No one_ would let him on the team.

And just who did he have to thank for that?

His `ol man.

Nathaniel Wilson was a crook. Simple as that. Everyone knew it, too. You could just see in the man's face; there was something completely shady about it. He swindled everyone out of everything. He was building up credit with every establishment in the town. Everyone at school knew Slade was his kid and they ostracized him for it. Slade was always looked down on simply because he was Nathaniel Wilson's son. Yet, everyone was perfectly cordial to the man to his face. But Slade was always the one who took the real rap for it all.

And Slade hated the man for it.

Slade's mother had died long ago when he was a little kid and so he really couldn't remember her. Too bad, though. He often tried to bring up memories of his mother, but he never could get a firm grasp on anything. His only memories were with this horrible man. Slade had probably lived in more states than actually existed since his father had to constantly move. This was the first time they had stayed in a city for longer than a month. They were now pushing four months in this town and Slade found himself actually settling down.

But he knew it wouldn't last.

The man just couldn't hold down a proper job. He totally was horrible at being a criminal, too. Slade lost count how many times he had to bail his own father out of jail. The man always got caught. The man most definitely needed to find a better line of work.

Slade strolled out of the alleyway, wiping his mouth again. Well, another win, but not total victory. True victory would come when he was accepted onto a team. It didn't matter which one, so long as he was part of a team. He wanted to be a part of something in the school. He didn't care if his teammates hated him; he just needed this.

Someone grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and pulled him back. A sinking feeling rose inside Slade's stomach. He turned his head to look up into the angry face of Officer Bailey, who had been keeping an eye on him as of late. The man was much taller than Slade, who was currently hovering around five six. He was counting on a growth spurt as soon as possible.

"Wilson," drawled the man, his eyes glinting with that dangerous light that spelled trouble. "Were you fighting _again?_"

"No," said Slade innocently, blinking up at the man a few times. Then, a cocky smirk spread through his young face. "And I did not just kick his butt."

"You know I keep telling you to stop it."

"Just can't keep `em off me, sir," said Slade, that confident smirk still lifting the edge of his mouth. "You can relate, right?"

"I'm done letting you off the hook, Wilson," said Officer Bailey, not even blinking an eye. "I'm talking to your father about this."

Slade's expression slid into a deep darkness; trying to hide the fear that started to lick his insides.

"He won't care. He's too busy with his own stuff."

"We'll just find out, now won't we?"

The officer maneuvered his grip beneath Slade's underarm and began to drag him away. Slade tried wrench out of the grip, but he felt the officer tighten his hold.

"Behave yourself, son," said Officer Bailey; his tone stern. "You don't want to find out what it's like in a juvenile detention center."

Slade settled down, but the twisting in his stomach wouldn't calm. He seriously needed to chill, but it just wasn't going to happen. His father would totally kirk out over this; completely go into a rage of fury. And Slade would be in it deep – _real deep_.

Officer Bailey dragged Slade to his doom, his funeral, his _front door_; keeping a firm hold on his arm as he knocked on the rundown door of the dilapidated apartment building. Slade tried to look bored with the whole thing. The only thing that betrayed him was his palpitating heart.

The door creaked open. Nathaniel Wilson peeked out, glaring at what he most certainly thought was an intruder. His father was wearing a dirty t-shirt and shorts; his feet bare as well. The man's dark, dirty blond was matted and grungy; his face shadowed with scruff. Slade cringed as he smelled the waft of alcohol on the man. He was completely juiced, smashed to heck there. It was completely obvious. Nathaniel's steel grey eyes were bloodshot and narrowed as he stared at the two of them.

"What?" barked Nathaniel.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Wilson, but I caught your son fighting again," said Officer Bailey in a completely business like tone.

_C`mon, you seriously aren't gonna leave me with this guy. He's totally smashed. I'll get obliterated here._

"Again?" growled Nathaniel, his eyes flittering over to Slade, who couldn't help but begin to feel apprehensive under that glare.

"Yes, and I've told him to stop, but he won't listen. I'm letting him off with another warning, but he's quickly running out of chances."

"I'll make sure it don` happen again," barked Nathaniel, grabbing Slade by his other underarm and dragging into the apartment. Slade slightly tripped over the front step as he was pulled inside. "Sorry fer the trouble, Officer."

"No trouble; just hate to see a good kid like him land in a juvenile detention center."

"`Course, thank you, Officer. G`night."

And with that, the creaky door slammed shut. Slade couldn't get out of the hold his father had on his arm. The man didn't move, but that grip was tightening so hard that Slade could've sworn bruises were starting to form there. Minutes passed as the man just stood there by the door, unmoving and not releasing him. Slade couldn't help but begin to cower away at the ominous presence that began to emanate from the man.

Then, his father shook him violently, slamming him into the wall.

"_Boy!_ Just what d`you think yer doin`, causin` trouble?" growled Nathaniel. Slade winced, cringing as the man's awful breath wafted over him. He was slammed into the wall, stars bursting in his eyes.

"Wa—wasn't causing trouble," gasped Slade, blinking rapidly.

Now, Nathaniel Wilson was a large man – around six feet or so by Slade's reckoning – and the way the man towered over him was always frightening in the moment. No matter how many times Slade managed to beat up a bunch of jocks that were much bigger than himself, he never seemed to be able to stand up to this man.

"Don` lie to me!" snapped Nathaniel, shaking Slade sharply, causing his head to whip back and forth.

"I'm not!" protested Slade, feeling sick. "I was just trying to prove myself to the guys!"

"Ya caused trouble fer that cop!" growled Nathaniel deeply, a strong waft of alcohol floating over Slade's senses again. "Ya brought attention to us, you idiot boy!"

"I–I—"

Nathaniel roughly tossed Slade aside. Slade lost his balance and toppled to the floor. He scuttled backwards as the man loomed over him. Fear pounded inside Slade's heart as he knew what was about to occur. It was always the same. It would never change. It was coming; Slade knew it; his father knew it.

Nathaniel pointed behind Slade.

"Get my belt, boy."

Slade's heart dropped. Even though he knew it had been coming, hearing that phrase was always the worse thing on his ears. It was a terrible phrase that was the prelude to pain; unrelenting, unfair pain – cruelty beyond anything in the world.

"But—"

"_Now!_"

Slade scrambled to his feet and fled to the man's bedroom, trembling terribly with every footstep. He felt sick with every advancing footstep; hating the unfairness and cruelty of his life.

He hated the man. He hated his father.

Wait—no, this man wasn't his father. He was just this creature that Slade just happened to be sired from; a horrible, dark creature.

He hated the man; he hated the moving; he hated the crimes; he hated the debt collectors; he hated the cops; he hated the alcohol; he hated the thrashings.

Slade wanted out, but he had nowhere to go. He was stuck with this man for at least another two years. He couldn't escape; not really. Where would he go? He'd starve to death. There was no one that would care about another wayward teen on the streets. He was stuck here.

Stuck with a man who was about to thrash him.

Slade walked to the closet and opened it; his hands trembling as he pulled out his father's favorite belt. He closed his eyes as he felt the taunt, leather belt in his hands. It was really happening again. He had managed to go for three weeks without getting a thrashing. Last time, Slade had smart mouthed back to the man while he was smashed cold.

Not the smartest thing Slade had ever done. Nope.

With his mouth getting drier by the second, Slade slowly walked back into the living room, the unfeeling leather belt in his increasingly dampening palms, where he sincerely prayed that the man had fallen asleep from the alcohol.

But such prayers were never answered.

Nathaniel was standing there, waiting for him. Slade swallowed over his dry throat and squared his shoulders. He was going to take this crap like a man. He wouldn't give his father the satisfaction of crying out. He would stand there and take his licks strongly and stoically. There was no way he was going to cry over this.

But no matter his resolve beforehand, he always had his breaking point.

Slade handed the belt to his father without a word, staring at the terrible object so he wouldn't have to look up into his father's unbending bloodshot eyes.

"Get into position."

That sentence was the worst. Slade _hated_ it. More than the other one. This sentence told him it was here; it was coming; and it would be _merciless_.

Gritting his teeth in preparation, Slade slowly pulled off his jacket and tossed it aside onto the floor. His father didn't say anything to the action. Then, even more slowly, Slade pulled off his shirt. The cool air breezed over Slade's torso; sending a chill down his back that ominously warned him what was to come. He tossed the shirt onto his jacket. With a deep breath, Slade face the wall; placing his hands parallel with his shoulders onto the cool surface and leaning forward slightly. His stomach flopped once in anticipation.

It was really happening again. No matter how many times he told himself that the last thrashing he got was just that, the _last_ thrashing, it never was. He never could bring himself to fight back; he never could bring himself to tell his father what for. He never could fight back – he was helpless against this man; weak and pathetic.

There was a _swish_ before the belt cracked along his exposed back.

Slade sucked in his breath as the sting raged against his skin. His hands trembled against the wall at the strike. He swallowed and truly hoped that this thrashing wasn't going to be a long one. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes; willing himself to be strong as he heard the next _swish_.

His breathing became rushed as he tried to remain calm through it; hissing in pain many times as the belt lashed against his skin. Numerous cracks were lifting their terrible sounds into the air. The blood roared in his ears as his entire back throbbed terribly. Slade lost count of how many stripes he received. His hands trembled furiously as he tried to maintain his position. Tears were already seeping through his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound.

He was _not_ about to give the man that satisfaction.

Finally, Slade heard the clink of the belt. A few moments went by, before he turned slightly to see that his father was gone. Nathaniel usually said nothing afterwards; leaving the thrashing to tell what he thought about Slade's behavior.

Unfeeling; everything was callous and cruel.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

Slade leaned his forehead against the cold, cruel wall and slowly slumped to the floor; his hands sliding against its surface. He curled his arms around his chest; hunching over into a fetal position. There the tears held themselves back no more. He cried silently. He made no noise at all; _not a sound_. Only tears fell from his eyes into his open mouth as he sobbed in silence from the terrible throbbing pain that told him his father was a cruel man.

He wouldn't have cared about the thrashing if his father did one thing. He would've accepted everything if his father had simply done _one _thing. _Anything_ that showed some sort of love or at least some sort of affection. Perhaps his father telling him that whatever sin he committed was forgiven or telling him that he didn't want to have to do this again. _Something, anything_ that gave Slade something to latch on and hope that perhaps there was a little place inside the man's heart that he could reside.

But there was no love here – only dominance. Slade knew it all too well; his father never _loved_ him. _What a joke!_ What a foolish thought to even think or wish for such a thing.

No matter how much he wished it was all just a lie.

These same shattered feelings always poured through his soul after a thrashing. The injustice of it all; the cruelty, the dominance, the animosity, the enmity, the disgust – all of it bore the terrible weight that attested to one awful, horrible fact.

His father did not love him.

Thus, Slade stayed curled up on the floor, bearing the pain of his tortured flesh; waiting for the tears of pain and ache to ebb away.

But the pain in his heart would never go away.

….….…

**January 10th, ****1989****. Tuesday, 11:55 am**

Slade opened his locker, pulling out a few books for his next class. It had definitely been a rough day on him. School was always the same – kids avoiding him like the plague or snickering behind his back or just outright antagonizing him.

Those were the normal days, though.

But today Slade had a new aggravation and that was his abused back. The skin was inflamed from the crisscrossing welts that decorated his back. It didn't help at all that he had to wear a shirt. He'd normally go shirtless at home in his room after a thrashing, but of course he had to go to school and they didn't really take kindly to students going half naked around the school.

And Slade didn't actually want to show anyone the abuse he'd been subjected to – being taken away wasn't always the best thing.

There was a silky giggle mixed of a low moan.

Slade slammed his locker shut and glared down the hallway. Travis Novak, the all popular jock and king in the school was currently making out with his 'broad of the week', Tiffany Mayfield, head captain of the cheerleaders. Slade rolled his eyes at them, trying not throw glances at the two of them.

It wasn't like he was jealous – he didn't even like the girl, _no way_. But… he supposed he wondered what it'd be like to have a girlfriend. But he didn't want a cheerleader skeezer like her – one who was always all over the popular guys. He wanted a girl who could be his friend, someone to talk to about anything and everything. Well, he was definitely the romantic type – wanting the ideal family with the girl of his dreams. Like all those old TV shows had; _The Dick Van Dyke Show_ or _Leave it to Beaver_ – perfect family life where the parents never raised a cruel hand to their children.

It was probably stupid to feel like that, but since Slade never experienced the ideal family life, there wasn't anything more he wanted.

But none of the girls at this school were like that. They only cared about what they could get out of the relationship, if you call it that. But to Slade, there was more to life then lip locking with the girl.

_A friend…_

Yeah, he didn't have any friends. In all the four months that he had attended this school, no one ever approached him to become friends. The girls steered clear of him and guys were threatened to stay away. There was never any chance for Slade to become one of the guys or a chance for a steady girlfriend who'd actually like him for himself than just for a making out buddy. It was more than obvious to Slade that the cheerleader didn't really like Travis, nor him in return.

It sickened Slade.

The bell rang for the next class and Slade hoisted his books in his arms. He began to walk down the hallway, but before he could take one more step, something tripped him and he toppled to the floor. His books flew from his arms and sprawled throughout the floor. He hissed in pain as his back screamed in protest at him. There was the soundtrack of laughter that lifted into the air.

"What's wrong, Wilson?" taunted Travis's voice. "Lost your footing there?"

Slade growled in his throat as he gathered up his books, not looking at his aggravator. He reached for the last one when a foot slammed down on top. Slade glared up at the owner with pure contempt.

"Get off, Novak," said Slade, trying hard not to grind his teeth. He didn't want to fight in the halls before class. But this tard always had it in for him.

"Don't think I'm going to, Wilson," said Travis, his face smirking heavily; his arm draped over Tiffany like he owned her. "I like my foot here."

"Shouldn't you be busy osculating with Mayfield there?" asked Slade with a pointed smirk. Travis' eyes grew wide with his anger. In a second, Slade was grabbed by the collar and pulled to his feet. A moment later, he was slammed into the nearest locker, the metal clanging at his impact.

"What did you just say to me?" snarled Travis.

"Heh, you should really keep a dictionary with you," said Slade with a mocking chuckle; grabbing at Travis' wrist with his hands. "You've been doing it all morning and you don't even know the name of it. You're mental, man."

"You better quit dissing me, Wilson," growled Travis, leaning in closer to Slade.

"Eat my shorts, Novak," retorted Slade in a snarl.

Travis didn't wait a moment later – a punch connected with Slade's stomach, blasting out all the air out of his gut. He doubled over with a groan as his stomach cried in pain while his back began to complain. Slade's instincts kicked in and he rammed his head into Travis' stomach; sending both of them to the floor. A second later, Slade was straddled over the much larger boy. Slade sent a harsh punch to the teen's face. All sounds were drowned out in Slade's hearing as he punched Travis again.

Just as he pulled his arm back for a fourth punch, hands grabbed him by the underarms and hoisted him off the older teen. Slade struggled against the hold on him until he heard the sharp voice of the football coach.

"Enough of this nonsense, Wilson!"

"He started it!" shouted Slade, wrenching himself out of the grip of the burly coach. "He threw the first punch; I just returned the favor."

Travis sat up; glaring up at Slade with a mixture of scorn and smugness.

"I swear, sir; this was an unprovoked attack," said Travis in the most polite voice Slade had ever heard him use. Slade scoffed elaborately.

"That's not true! He tripped me first and punched me in the stomach."

"You're always causing trouble and lying," said the coach in a dark tone. "Why should I believe this is any different?"

"That's not true!" cried Slade hotly. He hated this. Why did everyone have to judge him for what his father did? He wasn't his father. He wasn't a crook. He got good grades in school. He listened; followed the rules – most of the time. He didn't need this crap.

The coach grabbed him by the underarm and began to drag him away.

"To the principal's office with you," said the coach. Slade tried to wrench out of the man's grip, but the hold only tightened. The coach whirled on him and brought Slade close to his face before he let out a low growl, "Don't even _think_ about it."

There was no fighting it. Slade was dragged to the principal's office without another word. He couldn't believe the unfairness of it all. Travis was the one who started it, but because he was the saintly star player on the football team, he was getting away with it.

A moment later, Slade was pulled into the principal's office. Principal Evans was sitting at her desk when she looked up at the two of them. Slade tuned them out as best as he could. The coach was relaying the events in his own twisted version of it. Slade felt the unfairness of the whole affair rise up inside his chest. Travis was always doing this to him and he was just supposed to take it? That was crap if Slade ever heard it. Well, whatever. He'd get a few detentions out of this. Better here than at home, he supposed.

"Sit down, Mr. Wilson," said Principal Evan finally in a stern tone, once the coach was finished with his explanation. Slade obeyed with a small huff and crossed his arms obstinately.

"You, young man, are in a lot of trouble," said Principal Evans. The woman leaned on her desk with her elbows; interlocking her fingers so that she could rest her chin on them. Slade didn't look up at her. He knew what look she'd be giving him. It was a look of intimidation, but Slade wasn't buying it.

"Look at me, Mr. Wilson. I won't be disrespected here," said Principal Evans, her tone sharp. Slade tried not to growl as he lifted his head barely a fraction of an inch so his eyes could look at the middle aged woman.

"Now," began Principal Evans, "I think you and I both know why you're here."

"No, I don't," said Slade shortly. "Novak tripped me and punched me in the gut, yet why am I the only one here? He started it, I was only defending myself."

"Yet how is it that you were the one being pulled off of young Mr. Novak?"

"Because I'm the better fighter."

"If you're the better fighter, then how would Novak manage to trip and punch you?"

"I was trying to avoid fighting him!" cried Slade, jumping to his feet. The woman's tone was dripping with complete disbelief and distrust. He knew then no matter what he said was going to change her opinion. "But he punched me – what the heck was I supposed to do?"

"Well, it's obvious that you failed that first point," said Principal Evans, ignoring his question. She lifted a hand and motioned with a finger downward. "_Sit down_."

Slade hesitated for a moment, his chest heaving in his frustration. The woman gave him a stern eye before he complied with her command.

"Now, I am tired of dealing with this constant poor attitude from you," continued Principal Evans. "You are constantly getting into fights—"

"I am not!"

"_Do not interrupt me_," said the woman darkly, her eyes glaring deadly at him. Slade took it in his best interest to keep silent at that. "I keep hearing things from all the other students that you antagonize them—" _I do not!_ "—and I'm done with this behavior of yours. Thus, I believe it's time to give you more than just detention, since it appears they're not working. You are suspended for two weeks."

"_What!_" cried Slade, bolting to his feet again. "No! You can't do that! I get good grades, _please_. Let me come to school. You can give me all the detention you want or whatever punishment you want, just let me come to school."

Two weeks at home with his father…

He'd never survive the first week.

"This isn't up for discussion and we're calling your father to come pick you up."

Slade's heart stopped; chilling his soul to its center. He dropped back down into his chair as there was a painful throb in reminder of what most likely to occur in terrible force if his father had to come pick him up from school.

"_Please_…" whispered Slade, his tone in a complete plea. "Don't call my father. He's… really busy."

"You should've thought of that before you got into trouble," said Principal Evans coldly, beginning to look through an address book for his phone number.

Slade looked down at his clasped hands in his lap – they were trembling terribly.

He could tell them; rip off his shirt and tell them that his father beats him. They'd call social services and take him away from his father – put him into foster care, no doubt. He wouldn't have to take the belt ever again. He'd never have to feel it lash against his skin or wince from pain the following days as his tortured body recovered.

But would they believe him?

Even with the glaring evidence, would they believe him? They didn't even believe him now with something so small. Would they believe this? Would his father explain himself away through it?

Or would these people think he deserved it?

Could he handle the truth? If they told him he deserved such treatment from his father, Slade doubted he could survive that kind of information. At that moment, he still very much believed that he didn't have to take this kind of crap, but he still did. If they shattered that belief, what would happen to him?

It was on the tip of his tongue. The words that could set him free or that could bind him for the rest of his life. Could he take a chance? What would happen to him then?

"You've brought this upon yourself," said Principal Evans as she picked up the phone. "Such actions on your part warrant these consequences. You have nobody to blame but yourself."

The trembling ceased. Slade continued to look down at his hands in his lap. He went still; unmoving. His emotions began to block everything out; nothing but a darkened canvas within his mind.

There was his answer.

Slade didn't speak at all as the woman called his father. There were a few times afterward that she tried to talk to him, but Slade never answered back. He was silent. He couldn't answer. He didn't care if she thought his silence was defiance. It wasn't like she'd believe him otherwise. Might as well stick with the whole act.

Not like she cared anyways.

He sat in her office for what seemed like an eternity. The minutes dragged on. His father was coming to get him from school. His father would be furious with him. There was no convincing anyone of his innocence. There was no escaping this.

He was trapped; powerless before unfeeling and uncaring adults.

Within less than hour, Slade's father came into the office. The look in his face spelled it all – he was livid. The man was spruced up a bit than his normal grungy attire. He wore some old dress pants and a white collar shirt. He was even clean shaven. Slade's eyes couldn't help but zero in at the brown belt around the man's waist and the sinking feeling filled Slade's stomach.

"Principal Evans," said Nathaniel in a polite tone, walking into the room and nodding to her politely. "So sorry for the delay."

"Not at all, please sit down."

The woman motioned to the chair next to Slade. Nathaniel took it. Slade closed his eyes and listened to the adults discuss him as if he weren't in the room. Common phrases floated through the air of his poor behavior. There were no comments about the fact that he was a straight A student. There were no comments about the fact that he _never_ missed his classes.

There were only disparaging comments about Slade.

Once Slade heard his father's voice say, "Yes, I'll make sure to… discourage this behavior from _ever_ happenin` again." he knew then they'd be leaving. This was his last chance. Slade could accuse his father of child abuse. There was this small chance of being taken away; this tiny chance that they might take his side in all this.

Wasn't there?

His father stood up and it was obvious that it was time to leave. One last chance. There was still that glimmer of hope; that shimmer of light that could steal him away from his father and place him somewhere else – anywhere else was better, wasn't it?

Slade looked at Principal Evans. There was no look in her eyes that said that she would listen to anything he had to say. It was more than apparent that she could care less about what he felt or what he needed. Adults were always like that, weren't they? They never really notice things right in front of their very noses. No matter how much Slade wanted to open his mouth, something held him back.

It wasn't ever going to change – no one was going to stick up for him.

Slade stood up and followed his father out of the office without another look back at the woman. School was still in session. Slade felt a bang in his heart that he wouldn't be able to come back for two whole weeks – that is, if he lasted that long with his father, of course. He took one final glance at the halls before the door shut with a bang.

His haven locked away for two whole weeks – he was going home to a prison.

The car ride home was painfully quiet. Slade could feel the furious anger ooze from his father's aura. He felt sick. He knew he was in for it good. The man was going to punish him for this; no doubt about it. His already abused back was going to get a second dose of the belt.

That much was apparent.

But Slade was not about to let that happen. Not two days in a row, _no_.

The car pulled into the driveway of the apartment complex. The second the car was parked, Nathaniel barked, "Get out."

Slade obeyed silently, opening the door to the creaky car and slamming it shut behind him. He walked around the car to walk to the door when his father clamped a frightening hand on the back of his neck. Slade was then maneuvered to the door with Nathaniel's presence all dominate behind him. The second Slade was through the door he was pushed roughly forward. The front door was slammed shut.

"Yer constantly bringin` attention to us!" shouted Nathaniel immediately, tearing off his coat and slamming it onto the floor. He pointed a sharp finger at Slade. "Can't keep outta trouble, you brat!"

"He started it!" shouted Slade back, completely furious. "He asked for it. I gave it!"

"I had to get ya from school!" roared Nathaniel. "People are gonna know I was around, you idiot boy!"

"And that's my fault?" snapped Slade. "Not my problem you can't keep a decent job or stay away from bookies! I have a life, too, you know!"

Nathaniel looked completely livid by those words. The man's steel grey eyes flashed furiously. The man pointed at the wall and Slade's blood chilled.

"Get into position."

Slade's chest heaved once in a deep breath. No way. He didn't have to take this crap. He'd just endured a thrashing yesterday. No way he was going to take another so soon. _No way_.

"_No_. No, I'm not gonna let—"

Terrible strike instantly backhanded Slade across the face, sending him to crash to the floor. Pain shot through his face in a ravaging vengeance. Slade let out a small gasp as he put a hand to his face. He glared up at his father, his eyes glittering brightly.

"_Get into position now, boy_," snarled Nathaniel, his eyes widening in his fierce anger.

Slade's lips trembled on their own accord; a chill sliding down his tortured back.

There had been so many times that Slade had sworn to himself that he could fight back; that he could stand up to this man. He just choose not to. He had fought so many guys bigger than himself, after all. What was his father? Just a bigger guy, right?

But something was gripping Slade's heart at the moment and it chilled his very soul.

He couldn't fight back.

"Move it, boy," growled Nathaniel, unbuckling his belt and pulling it out of his belt loops. The man wielded the belt in his hand and gave Slade a look that dared him to disobey.

Slowly, ever so painfully slow, Slade stood up. He unzipped his ragged jacket with trembling fingers and pulled it off. He dropped it onto the floor. Then, he slowly pulled off his shirt; dropping it onto the floor as well.

Slade turned around and faced the uncaring, unknowing wall; placing his hands flat onto its surface. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes; trying to clear himself of all feelings.

But he couldn't.

"_I hate you_," whispered Slade, trembling uncontrollably as he stood at the wall; waiting for the brand of cruelty to lash across his back.

"Feelin`s mutual, boy," said Nathaniel coldly, before there was the all too terrible and too familiar _swishing_ sound.

….….…

**January 11th, ****1989****. Wednesday, 7:02 am**

Slade hissed out a cry as the icy water struck his back; the welts and wounds stinging horribly before the cold water could begin to numb his skin. Then, he let out a soft, agonizing sigh and leaned his forehead against the shower wall, letting the water do its work. He tried very hard not to tremble in weakness, but he couldn't help it. Two thrashings in two days was too much for his body to handle.

Especially since yesterday's thrashing was worse than normal due to his defiance.

He was pretty sure his back looked like road kill at that moment; stripes of red welts interwoven into his back like a demented quilt – each welt swollen and lifted in throbbing agony. He had no doubt that the skin had broken in a number of places. But there was nothing he could do about it. Wasn't like his father kept a first aid kit around this dump and it wasn't like his father would allow him to use it, anyways.

The biggest problem was that Slade was suspended. He definitely didn't want to stick around here with his father all day long. That was just like tempting the devil himself, now wasn't it? His father would get irritated at Slade for just breathing before that belt would come off again.

Slade knew he couldn't handle a third.

He spent as much time in the cold shower as he possible could stand, before he got out. It took him a long time to dry off, since he had to be painstakingly careful with drying his back. He couldn't let it go wet or else his shirt would aggravate the wounds. Slade spent at least a half an hour hissing and sucking in his breath as he dried the entire expanse of his back, along with the upper areas of his neck.

He decided he'd wear a turtle neck today – he didn't want to see the damage.

Once sufficiently dry and dressed, Slade went to the kitchen. A little breakfast might take his mind off his throbbing back, but he doubted it. He felt overheated inside from his back. Wearing a shirt over his abused flesh aggravated the welts even more; the cotton rubbing and scratching the wounds to bring an even higher level of torture to his skin. He always hated the aftermath of a thrashing. It was just as bad as the thrashing itself.

But he was sure today his father wouldn't want him shirtless.

Slade grabbed a box of cereal and the jug of milk from the fridge. He double checked the date of the milk – just in case. Satisfied that the milk wasn't old, he poured himself a bowl of cereal and began to eat; trying not to let himself think about anything or feel anything.

It was too painful.

He jumped slightly when there was a sudden sharp rapping at the front door. Slade peered into the living room from the table to watch his father slowly go to the door. The man barked out a greeting before his attitude completely changed in an instant. Slade noticed that there were some strange looking men at the door.

There were two. Both were wearing black shirts with grey jackets; their pants black as well. Slade noticed they wore fancy looking shoes as well. He stood up slowly and made his way to the kitchen doorway, hiding slightly as to not be seen. He stilled, trying to catch the heated whispers that were being exchanged.

While Nathaniel was a man that Slade couldn't fight against, the man was actually a pushover to every other person on the planet. Especially those he owed money to – which it was very apparent to Slade that his father owed these men some money and from the looks of it, _a lot_.

His father's body language said it all. The man was hunched over slightly, wringing his hands as he talked submissively to the men. Slade strained his ears to hear, but he barely could make anything out.

"—owe Mr. Rossi—"

"—_course_—_have_—_arrangement_—"

"—will not be pleased—"

"—_meet me at_—_leave in ten_—"

Slade noticed the men looked satisfied with this because then they left. Slade hurried back to his seat at the table, trying to look innocent as he shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth just as his father stalked into the kitchen. The man glowered at him, but didn't say anything. Slade kept his head ducked down as he ate.

He couldn't help but wonder what those men wanted. Well, he figured he had a pretty good idea. His father owed them money; they'd skip town now. Simple as that. So much for going out for a team – not that he could've now anyways. Not after that fight. Slade supposed it was for the best. It wasn't like he had _really_ gotten used to this place. This little apartment was just a rundown shack, to be honest.

He could always try again next town…

But no matter how much Slade tried to convince himself otherwise, he hated moving. He hated never being able to stick his feet into the ground and say this was _home_. He hated traveling so much. He just wanted to stay rooted in one town, make friends, be a normal kid, have a girlfriend, grow up, get married, have a family of his own – but of course, that just wasn't possible.

Not when you had Nathaniel Wilson for a father.

"Hurry and eat," barked Nathaniel, making Slade jump slightly from the man's biting tone. He looked up at his father with a questioning expression. "We're going out."

Slade still gave him that questioning look, but if his father noticed, he didn't elaborate anymore than that. Slade half wanted to eat his cereal slowly to stall, but he knew his father would rip him out of the chair and drag him away from his food. Slade's stomach won out; finishing his bowl quickly.

"Come," said Nathaniel in a low bark as he walked out of the kitchen. Slade followed the man. Nathaniel jabbed a finger at Slade's shoes that were by the door.

"Put them on," commanded Nathaniel. Without a word, Slade obeyed. He grabbed his jacket, following the man out of the apartment into the chilly winter air. Nathaniel locked the door behind them and shoved Slade towards their dilapidated, rusty car.

"Get in."

"Where're we going?" asked Slade.

"For a drive!" snapped Nathaniel sharply. "Don` ask questions. Ge`in!"

Slade didn't bother to argue with the man. It was far better to obey at that moment; the throbbing, dull fire in his back attested to that fact. Slade opened the car door, the metal creaking as he did so, and got inside. He hated this car – smelled too much of alcohol and cigarettes. He shut the door and leaned against it with an elbow, not wanting to look over at his father. As they pulled out of the parking lot of the apartment complex, Slade watched through the window.

There was no talking as the man drove the rickety car; the exhaust puttering slightly at times. Slade just watched the dead scenery speed by. In some places, there were patches of snow from the latest snowfall, but in most areas the ground had dead grass; the tree branches bare and lifeless.

Just like the feeling that was growing inside Slade.

He was feeling dead. He knew it and he hated it. But it was the only way to deal with his situation. If he allowed himself to feel anything, then he'd drown himself in a puddle of tears. But that was no way to deal with it. Sobbing did nothing – he learned that early on in life. He had to pull himself together, hold back the pain, and avoid feeling anything that would tear down his defenses.

One thing he allowed himself to feel, to think, to breathe – he seriously wished he could get away from his father forever.

Strange how some wishes are heard and some aren't.

Slade wasn't sure how long they drove. He was pretty sure it had been a few hours. They were driving out of town for sure, the landscape barren as they drove past empty farm fields. Slade's eyes occasionally caught sight of farm animals, whether they be cows or horses.

It was around the beginning of the afternoon when Slade felt hunger claw at his stomach, not to mention he needed to relieve himself. He knew his father would _not_ be pleased if Slade decided to forgo the use of a restroom, so Slade voiced his need finally – but he wasn't going to mention his hunger.

"Sir, I need the bathroom," said Slade, turning to look at his father. He had long stopped calling the man 'Dad'. After one especially brutal thrashing two years ago, that term of endearment had died in his heart. Nathaniel nodded sharply.

"Wait a bit."

Slade wanted to retort, saying that when it was full, it was _full_, but he kept his mouth shut; deeply reminded of the cost of such retorts by a particularly painful throb of his back.

So, Slade watched the outside world as it sped by some more.

It was soon, however, that Nathaniel drove into a large town. Shops of all sorts passed by as he drove. Slade noticed there was an army base as well; a medical branch. He raised his eyebrow at the sign on the outside of the small building that said accepting recruits. Slade smirked. When wasn't the army accepting recruits?

Nathaniel continued to drive past most of the bustling part of the city to come to the outskirts. Soon, Slade saw many industrial buildings. It was then that Nathaniel slowed down his drive to a rundown warehouse. He pulled into the parking lot and stopped near the closed large door of the warehouse; the car coming to a stop.

"Get out," barked Nathaniel, opening the door and getting out of the car.

Puzzled, Slade slowly opened his door with a creak and got out of the car. A side door of the warehouse opened and two men walked out. Nathaniel clamped a hand onto Slade's neck and it took all of Slade's self control not to yelp from pain at the sharp hold over his fresh welts. Nathaniel maneuvered him to stand in front of the two men – who looked similar to the men that had visited this morning. Then, Slade was pushed forward with a sharp jab to his middle back, which caused Slade to hiss in pain.

"There," said Nathaniel, his tone softening to sound submissive. Somehow, Slade was reminded of a spineless weasel. "Here's my end of the bargain."

_Bargain?_

One of the men reached out and roughly grabbed Slade by the chin; forcing him to look up at the man. Slade was still, thoroughly shocked by the way the man was manhandling him. His head was turned side to side multiple times. Then, his mouth was forced open as the man inspected the interior.

A strange feeling began to rise inside Slade's stomach.

Slade felt extremely uncomfortable as the man began to circle him, almost like a predator circled its prey. The man began to feel at his back muscles and Slade couldn't help the cry that burst from his mouth at the rough touch. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, beginning to tremble.

Something wasn't right here.

There was a low growl and Slade felt the cold weather bite his back as his shirt was roughly lifted from behind him. Slade jerked away, quickly trying to readjust his jacket and shirt; whirling around to face the one that was doing this to him.

"Wilson!" growled the man, whirling on the older owner of the name. "Why's the kid not in good condition?"

Panic slid down Slade's back. Why… Why did it feel like they were talking about an object?

"He's a rowdy one," said Nathaniel timidly, wringing his hands slightly; his tone weak and low. "It's the only way I could keep him in line. He'll heal. S–so… is the debt clear now?"

There was long moment as the man looked Slade over again briefly. Then, he gave Nathaniel a sharp nod.

"Yes, Mr. Rossi will be pleased. Your ten thousand dollar debt is now clear."

Those words reverberated through Slade's ears; their terrible sounds ringing back and forth through his mind. It was becoming all too clear to him now; why he was being manhandled so much; why these men looked him over so carefully. He was being sold. He was being sold for ten thousand dollars. His own _father_ sold him – like a slab of beef.

Something died inside Slade.

With unimaginable power and adrenaline pouring through his veins like he had never before experienced, Slade attacked the nearest man with a dominate punch to the stomach. Instantly, the man doubled over with a loud grunt. Within another moment, Slade's leg had spun around and connected with the man's middle; sending the man to burst to the side a few feet from the force of his kick. The man smashed into the wall of the warehouse and groaned deeply.

All within a mere moment.

Slade didn't stop there. With a cry of rage, he attacked the second man. This man had a little more time to retaliate than his partner. As Slade throws as many punches at the much larger man, a punch connected with his cheek and sent him falling to the ground.

"_Boy!_" screamed Nathaniel. "Stop that—"

But Slade was already on his feet again, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. In a single lunge, he managed to get through the man's defenses and punch him in the gut. A second later, Slade sent a swift kick to the fork of the man's legs. With a strangled, anguished grunt, the man doubled over; dropping to his knees as he clutched the abused area with both his hands. Slade twisted his body and sent a powerful kick into the man's side, causing the man to smash into the wall of the warehouse near the other man.

Both men groaned deeply, slipping into unconscious.

Slade straightened slowly, carefully turning to face his father. Nathaniel was standing in shock, his clenched fists shaking in his rage as he stared wide eyed at Slade. Then, his face dropped into a terrible glower and he took a step forward.

"You stupid, _worthless_—how dare you! D`you have _any_ idea what you've done?! When I get my hands on you, I'll thrash ya within an inch of yer life!"

Slade's face slid into darkness as he considered the man that stood in front of him. His heart completely detached itself; only hatred and loathing filling it as he gazed at this man.

"You have no control over me anymore," said Slade, his voice verging on that same low, smooth tone it would take on years from now. "You _sold_ me, didn't you? I don't _belong_ to you anymore."

It was an instant.

Slade was upon the man who was once his father. Power like nothing before poured through Slade as punched the man in the gut. There was a horrible grunt of pain before Slade sent another to the man's face. In another swift moment, Slade twisted his body into a kick and smashed it into the man's side. Nathaniel was knocked to the ground with terrible force; flying a few feet to the side.

Then, without a second thought, Slade turned around and ran.

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Nine: Desperation – In his desperation for a place to belong, Slade tries to join the army medical unit, but is met with some opposition. However, he's given a little help from Major Wintergreen himself and from a pair of certain feisty twins.

**Author's Notes:** Interestingly enough, did you know that osculate means kiss? I cracked up _so_ bad when I saw that at Thesaurus. I knew that I had to come up with something for that word to get used. It's so ridiculously hilarious! XD

Ooh, 80s lingo is also hilarious. *shakes head* So funny. Eat my shorts? What kind of retort is that? XD

And, I'm afraid I can't promise when the next posting is at this time. My posting schedule is swamped with the finality of _Forgotten Bonds_. So, we'll just have to see. But hopefully I can get to a regular posting schedule soon. ^^

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


	9. Desperation

**Author's Note: **I am so sorry for the delay. As I said in the one shot update in _Forgotten Bonds_, I've been dealing with some chronic health issues. Writing's been a bit difficult. But I managed to get a chapter done _finally_, but it'd been awhile since I actually touched this story. (Blessed day that I had an in depth outline for this chapter) So, I reread chapter eight to get my bearings…

LOL, I died, I was cracking so bad with "osculating" and "Eat my shorts!" *dies* Oh, my… Too funny. You know, you totally have to say 'osculating' with a British accent. It just makes it even better. Trust me. It's perfect, then.

Also, at **Swallow Tale**'s brilliant alignment of Slade's past to the Teen Titans, I decided to pull in Rose as well. Should be interesting.

Aheh…

Sorry about the intense previous chapter for you, **ArkieR**. There won't be anything like that in the future with Slade and Nathanial now. I needed to show how the past has shaped Slade into who is and I most certainly don't condone such a thing in real life.

Also, you never know what amazing men might be in your life. Perhaps your best friend has a father that you admire. Or if you attend church, many times there are plenty of good men there. If you ever need a father figure in your life, I have no doubt that if you look, you just might be provided one in the most amazing of places. He doesn't need to live inside your home. I wish you the best! *huggles*

On with the story!

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**Desperation**

**January 11th, ****1989****. Wednesday, 2:38 pm: 24 years into the past.**

Slade ran with all his might, ignoring the pain that protested in his back and in his face from the punch he received. He never looked back once; racing up the road that his father had driven on. He ran for as long as he could, his chest constricting as a stitch began to form in his side. But he didn't stop. He had to put as much distance between those men and himself. He had to run. He had to get away. Wherever his father was sending him, it couldn't be good.

Slade managed to run nonstop for about ten minutes before he collapsed in a nearby alleyway. A mangy dog darted away from the nearest dumpster, barking loudly at being interrupted in its scavenging. Slade leaned against a wall, gasping gulping breaths and clutching at the stitch in his side. He slid down against the wall to sit onto the cold ground. He shivered slightly as a chilled breeze bit through his thin jacket. He pulled his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs; setting his face into his knees.

He tried so hard not to think, but his mind wasn't obeying him. There was a terrible pain in his chest and it wasn't from his exertion from running so long. His heart twisted inside as the desolation tore at his soul.

His father had sold him for ten thousand grand.

He was worth ten thousand bucks.

A lump began to build up inside his throat. He was trying—seriously trying, but the terribleness of it all was crashing down on him. His own father considered him something that could be pawned off, like some _object_. Like a slab of meat from a cattle. What father would do that? Slade couldn't stop the self hatred that was building inside his heart. The very thought that he had ever wished for a brief second that his father loved him, cared about him, _liked_ him even made him sick to his stomach.

That man had never loved him.

Then, why had he kept him around so many years? If Slade had been nothing but trouble, why keep him around? Had he been insurance all this time? Something of value to hold onto until the right moment came up? Had his father ever once thought something nice about him?

Slade bit back a choking sob. It came out as a muffled cry into his knees; a small choking noise that sounded as if it were strangled. He never wanted to think about that man again. That man wasn't his father. Slade was an orphan. He had no one. Having no one was far better than having a lowlife—a _monstrosity_ for a father, wasn't it?

Alone.

Forever alone.

Slade had no more time to think as the call of nature urged him to take care of itself. Without a second thought, Slade got to his feet and relieved himself behind the dumpster; ignoring the horribleness of it all – having to pee in a dirty alleyway. Once he was done, he began to walk again. He put one foot in front of the other. He avoided the road, not wanting those men to try to come and find him. He simply walked towards the main part of the city, keeping his mind blank and focused on his moving feet; feeling nothing but death inside his heart.

It was all too terrible to truly think about it.

Hunger once again clawed at his stomach, twisting his innards with pain. He shivered slightly as a particularly cold wind whipped over him. He wrapped his arms around himself in the attempt to stave off the cold, but it didn't do much.

Slade wasn't sure how long he walked. He tried to hold back the fear that threatened to eat at his soul. Every time a car passed by on the road, Slade hid. Those men might try to find him. His father might try to find him. What was he going to do, then? There was nowhere he could turn to; nowhere he could go. Maybe the police, but what could they do? Would they just drop him into juvy?

At least he'd have a bed and food.

But Slade had heard nothing but frightening things about that place. He knew that wasn't the type of place to live in. Nothing but awful things happened there and generally those who left it became criminals in their later lives. The chance for a better life would be greatly dimmed there. Slade didn't want to turn out like his father. He seriously wanted to be somebody – not just some common crook.

He wanted to be the better man.

Slade's steps soon brought him to the city. It was getting late now, the sun setting probably an hour or so ago, if Slade calculated it. As he walked, his eyes caught sight the lit building of the police station. He almost went in – _almost_. He didn't know where else to turn to.

However, his eyes caught sight the army medical building – the very one that was accepting recruits.

Juvy.

Army.

Well, the choice was obvious. At least the army would train him in whatever he wanted to train in. He could get schooling in whatever profession he wanted to pursue. He'd get a chance at life.

He could become a better man than his father.

Slade made a beeline for the army building. He'd have to lie about his age, no doubt. He was a bit short for an adult, but he could pass it off. This was his only chance.

Slade hurried up the steps of the building, feeling relief as the interior shadowed him from the outside world. The warmth of the air inside the building began to steal away the chill that had settled in Slade's skin. There was safety here; Slade knew it. Here he'd have enough to eat, a warm bed to sleep in, and he'd never have to see that man again – that man that sired him.

Slade stepped into the hall, looking around carefully as he walked. There was a receptionist desk in the front. There were three men in line. As Slade started to quicken his steps to get in line, a door on the other side of the hall smashed open as two blond males walked out.

"Ow, ow, _ow_, Jo—Joey, that hurts!" complained a male voice.

"_Good!_" snapped the other male voice, who was addressed as Joey; tugging the other young man's ear. "I can't believe you, Grant. You're a complete menace to society!"

"Hey, you know how I get over red heads."

"Yes, and I also know how you get with darks, blondes, and brunettes—_a menace!_"

Slade watched two blond males walk by, one firmly latched onto the ear of the other while dragging him away. The one being pulled by his ear was wincing as he continued to complain and whine in small, incoherent grumbles.

"I'm taking you to the Major. Maybe he can shake some sense into you," snapped Joey, sounding thoroughly exasperated.

"No, no, no, don't, Joey," begged Grant. He clasped two hands together in a prayer. "Have a heart for your older brother."

"What heart?! I lost it our second year in high school when you nearly destroyed half the school in a chemistry explosion!"

"But there was this girl—!"

The male, Joey, gave the other young man an especially hard tug on the ear, cutting him off, before the two of them disappeared into another room.

Slade quickly stepped up to the line. His stomach growled slightly, a small pain running through it. He put a hand there while scratching the side of his neck for a moment with his other hand. He seriously hoped that there'd be some grub around here. He was starving and a bowl of cereal for breakfast never lasted long in his stomach. A moment later, he heard the receptionist speaking to the second man in line.

"I'm sorry, sir. The cutoff time is now. We close at eight pm, but you are more than welcome to come back tomorrow."

_Tomorrow? I can't last that long! Where am I gonna sleep?_

Slade rushed up to the desk as the other man left and slammed his hand onto the surface. The woman flinched visibly by Slade's harshness.

"Sign me up," growled Slade. He didn't have time for this. He wasn't safe out in the streets. He wouldn't last the night – either he'd freeze to death or be captured by those men or his father.

He couldn't risk that.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're closed now, but please come back—"

Self control fled Slade as he let out a low curse that made the woman stop abruptly, her eyes widening.

"Take your rules and shove them," snapped Slade. "Sign me up, _now_."

The woman swallowed once, but her eyes took on a serious light as she set a glare onto Slade; jutting out her chin decidedly.

"Try again _tomorrow_."

"No, now."

"I'm sorry, but—"

There was no stopping it: Slade let out a string of expletives that would make even the most hardened of sailors blush a rosy apple red. The woman looked thoroughly appalled.

"Young man!" she cried, affronted. "How _dare_ you! Now please leave and come back tomorrow. We have procedures for these things."

Slade was about to open his mouth again and tell her just where she could shove those procedures, when a hard hand dropped onto his shoulder. It landed on a particularly pained welt and Slade couldn't stop the yelp that escaped his lips as he jumped in a startle. A low, baritone voice flooded the air.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Slade quickly whirled around, gulping slightly as he saw who was the owner of the hand. It was a man in full uniform. He was tall – freakishly tall compared to Slade; taller than his father. The man had grey white hair and sharp hazel green eyes. He looked to be in late fifties and had a few wrinkles across his face. The man held an impressive stance and Slade most definitely felt a bit intimidated by him.

"Major Wintergreen; _oh, thank goodness_," said the woman, looking relieved. Wintergreen looked down on Slade, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"What is the meaning of such language in front of mixed company, young man?" demanded Wintergreen, his eyes glinting furiously.

Slade gathered what was left of his backbone and straightened tall; staring up at the taller man with fire in his eyes. This was it – he had to join. He had to convince this man to let him join. He needed a place to stay. He needed food. He needed protection. There was nowhere else to turn to and there was no way he was going to let anyone stop him. He wasn't ever going back, no matter what.

"Who're you?" demanded Slade in return. The older man raised an eyebrow for a moment before he humored Slade's request.

"Major William Randolph Wintergreen of the Woodhaven Army Medical Unit," said the man, standing tall as he looked down at Slade. "Who are you and what is the meaning of letting your tongue go wild in front of a lady?"

"Slade Joseph Wilson and I wanna join."

There was a low laugh; soft, deep melodic sounds lifting into the air as the man laughed. Wintergreen dropped a hand onto Slade's head and ruffled his hair affectionately. Slade stiffened at the touch, shocked that this frightening man had such a soft manner and completely unused to an adult male touching him so kindly.

"Come back in a few years, lad," chuckled Wintergreen. "Once you've grown up a bit, hm?"

A wave of irritation flooded through every segment of Slade's veins. How dare this old man condescend him! He was sick and tired of dealing with such aggravating adults who thought they knew everything. Well, they didn't know _anything_. He scowled deeply and jerked away from the ruffling hand.

"Let me join!" shouted Slade.

"Mmmm, how old are you, lad?"

"Nineteen!"

There was a mere eyebrow raise as Wintergreen studied him deeply. Slade considered for a moment. Well, nineteen did seem a little farfetched, regarding his height.

"Eighteen," amended Slade with a shrug. "I'm small for my age. Now let me join!"

"Mmm… No, lad."

Slade growled loudly. Who did this man think he was? He couldn't stop Slade from joining if he wanted to – not like he was his father. There was no one to stop him and he sure as heck wasn't going to let anyone do so.

"I'm gonna join and that's final," snapped Slade in a loud shout. "No one's gonna stop me and certainly not an oversized lug like yourself!"

Wintergreen clamped a hand onto Slade's shoulder nearest to his neck. He couldn't help the yelp that pitifully escaped his lips; jumping again in another startle at the pain that flared in a welt that resided there. He bit down on his lower lip and didn't look up at the man. Wintergreen raised an eyebrow at him for a long moment. Slade couldn't take it anymore and he looked up at the man with as much fierce determination he could muster through the dull throbbing pain he was experiencing; completely unaware of how much his deep, crystal blue eyes were shining.

The older man studied him for a long moment – even a few minutes.

Then, with that firm hand still on his neck, Wintergreen maneuvered him to turn around to face the woman at the desk.

"Sign him up."

"Major! Now wait a second—"

"Sign the lad up," insisted Wintergreen, releasing his hold on Slade. The old man leaned over the desk and fingered to the woman. Slade strained his ears and managed to hear the old man whisper to place Slade under his jurisdiction as his ward. Slade frowned at that, confused slightly.

_What…? His ward?_

"But that's highly irregular!" protested the woman, not bothering to keep her tone soft. Wintergreen pulled back and placed a hand onto Slade's shoulder again, this time with much more gentleness.

"Do it. I'll be responsible for any repercussions should they arise."

"But—"

"Please, Maddie," said Wintergreen, his tone softening. "Just do it."

The woman named Maddie grumbled under her breath about procedures, but she was nonetheless gathering up paperwork. The hand on Slade's shoulder never left him, but he didn't try to pull away from it. The old man was letting him join, no way he was going to do anything to anger him at that moment.

The woman pushed the paperwork forward to Slade. He eagerly began to sign it all. However, some of the information he couldn't fill in. It said it needed his birth certificate and social security, but he didn't have nor knew that kind of stuff. What was he supposed to do?

"I, uh… I don't have my birth certificate," whispered Slade, keeping his head down. "Or a lot of this other stuff…"

"Then, you can't join!" snapped the woman with obvious disdain.

"Maddie," chided Wintergreen gently. "Just fill something in – say information is delayed."

"_Fine_," growled the woman. Then, with a mutter, "Next you'll want me to sign up chimpanzees like those Kane brothers."

Slade quickly filled in what he could; uncaring about the disgruntled woman in front of him. All he cared about was signing these papers before him as quickly as possible. There were a number of things he didn't really understand. He did his best to plow through it all. He checked the box that allowed for medical testing. He wasn't really sure what they meant by that – did it mean something about a physical or something? Obviously, he needed to allow that.

Twenty minutes later, with the Major standing over him through it all, Slade handed his completed papers to the woman. Wintergreen took them from her for a moment to sign something. Slade was heavily curious about what the man was signing, but he couldn't catch a glimpse of it. After the man handed the final papers to the woman, she set a stern glare onto Slade.

"There. You're in. The Major will, no doubt, brief you on the procedures of things." She lowered a finger to Slade, who flinched slightly by her harsh look. She waggled the finger. "Stay out of trouble, young man, if you know what's good for you."

Slade was about to argue with the ornery woman, when Wintergreen placed his hand again onto Slade's shoulder to lead him away from the front desk.

"Come away, Private," said Wintergreen, his voice filled with his commanding tone. Slade couldn't get the chance to retort to the obnoxious woman as he was quickly led away. Sighing to himself, Slade allowed himself to be directed. A peace was beginning to settle into his heart.

_He was safe._

He was going to be fine now. His father couldn't get him any more. Those strange men couldn't get him any more, either. He was safe and protected within these walls. His father would never think to look here. He'd steer clear of the police station and the army barracks.

_Tough luck, old man,_ thought Slade. _You can't ever hurt me again._

Slade was led into another room. The door was closed behind him as Wintergreen walked passed him. There was a desk in the middle. Slade could see the nameplate of 'Major Wintergreen' decorating it. The older man sat in the chair behind the desk. He motioned for Slade to sit down, which he did so. There was a moment where Slade could see there was another door to his right. The room itself was sparse with effects, save for a lone bench that sat with its back to the wall on Slade's left.

The man watched Slade with scrutinizing eyes for a few quiet moments; his elbows leaning against the desk surface with his fingers interlaced together to allow his chin to rest on top.

Now that Slade was in, he wasn't sure what to expect. All he wanted at that moment was a bed and some grub. He was starving. This old man was starting to make him nervous. It was like the man was trying to figure him out. It made Slade uncomfortable; like the man was going to strip him of all his painful secrets.

"As of now," began Wintergreen finally after a few more awkward moments for Slade, "I am your commanding officer. Do you know what this means?"

Slade didn't answer; shrugging once and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a painful, quiet ripple in his stomach – food was needed as soon as possible. His hurting stomach was telling him that much. Slade doubted that he'd be able to concentrate on anything at this point. He wanted to sigh. When was dinner around here?

There was a light smile on the man's slightly wrinkled face.

"I see. Private Wilson, take off your shirt."

Slade's eyes widened in shock for a moment at the command. The old man couldn't be serious. There was no way Slade was gonna stripe his shirt off – no way. But the look on the man's face was deadly serious. Those secrets that were blazed across Slade's back had to remain such – he couldn't reveal that to anyone.

"Sorry, old man. Don't know you that well," sneered Slade.

The man chuckled. "Brassy, aren't you?" Wintergreen stood up, circling the table to stand next to him. Slade couldn't help but be aware of the man's towering height, which showed its prominence more as Slade was seated. He felt a nervousness fall into the pit of his stomach as the man drew himself to his full height with his hands behind his back.

"Let me remind you that I am your commanding officer. Disobeying order around here isn't an option," said Wintergreen, the aura of a soldier completely surrounding him. "If I want ten pushups, you're to give me twenty. If I say hop, you're to leap. I don't want a hundred percent, I want one hundred and fifty percent obedience from you." Wintergreen leaned down to face Slade; merely six inches away. "So, if I say _take off your shirt_, you take off your pants, too."

As the man lifted up, Slade held up his hands in protest.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_. Hold up here. I am _not_ striping down to my shorts!"

"Obey me. Take off your shirt."

"No dang way, old man!" shouted Slade, snapping to his feet.

Wintergreen raised an eyebrow at him. Slade felt a small shiver go down his spine at the dark light that entered the man's eyes. Slade averted his gaze, shifting his weight nervously.

"The army has its… ways in dealing with unruly soldiers," said Wintergreen in a dark whisper. "But let me tell you, everything goes out the door when it comes underage ones."

Slade's eyes widened as he snapped them back to look up at the man. Wintergreen's face began to lift into a small smirk.

"Yes, I've figured you were underage. What are you, fifteen, fourteen?"

At the obvious blow to his pride, Slade couldn't stop his mouth from snapping, "I'm sixteen!"

"That's what I figured," said Wintergreen with a smile. Slade quickly clamped his mouth shut; stricken that he had revealed his age to the man. He felt a strange feeling with this old man. He felt a similar dominating feeling that he felt from Nathanial – but it also completely felt like an intellectual dominance as well.

"Listen well, lad," said Wintergreen, his eyes flashing once. "I have full power over you and that means I'm basically your guardian now. Which also means, I have full power over your discipline. You wouldn't want to get yourself… thrashed or anything, now would you? Such is the price for wayward lads."

Slade's eyes couldn't go any wider at that. His throat caught as he tried to swallow nervously. He had just run away from such an environment. Was he now stuck in a new one with a man who looked like he could snap him in half like a twig? Slade's hands began to shake at his sides.

This wasn't fair! He was supposed to be safe now. This wasn't supposed to happen. This man couldn't do that, right?

But Slade couldn't bring himself to look up at the man. He could only keep his head bowed; his eyes burning terribly at the hopeless wave of helplessness that was flowing over him. Was he really going to be stuck here now? He thought things would be different.

Maybe… he hadn't ever deserved it in the first place. Maybe it was true – the reason why all his teachers treated him with contempt. Maybe it was true that he deserved his father's belt. Maybe that was why his father never loved him.

Slade wasn't to be loved.

"Take off your shirt, lad."

An air of defeat rose around Slade. There was no fighting it now. Survival kicked in – he couldn't risk this man's wrath just yet. He was still recovering from his last punishments. Slade's hands continued to tremble at his sides. They began to finger the edges of his jacket.

"Do I… do I really have to take my pants off, too?" asked Slade meekly, not looking up at the man. If he had, he would've seen the tired sigh that escaped the exasperated expression that flooded through the man's face.

"No, just take your blasted shirt off already."

Slade cringed at the tone; his eyes squeezing shut. He slowly began to pull off his jacket; laying it on the chair once it was fully off. Then, with trembling fingers, Slade lifted his shirt over his head; clutching the fabric in his hands afterward and keeping his head down.

"Turn around."

Slade didn't bother to protest and did so. Instantly, there was a sharp intake of breath from the man behind him. Slade wasn't sure what to make of that sound. All he could do was stand there, his back bared in its abuse to a man he barely knew for less than an hour.

"Who did this to you?" asked Wintergreen finally in a terribly low voice.

"It's not any of your business. I did what you told me, but it's not any of _your dang business!_" snapped Slade, his tone rising with every word. His hands clenched the fabric of his shirt. He kept his back turned so he wouldn't have to face the man.

"It's my business now," snapped Wintergreen back, his tone sharp and cracked as a whip. "_Answer me_."

"No, not happening. It's the past now. Could care less, wait – yeah, _not_," drawled Slade in short tones, his chest heaving as his emotions began to rise. He closed his eyes as he remembered the terrible deed his father had done – no, not the stripes upon his back. Those Slade could endure; he had for years. No, it was the terrible deed that told him with unfailing precision that his father was a heartless man that hadn't viewed Slade as a son.

No, he'd been object worth selling, hadn't he been?

"You _will_ answer me, _now_," came Wintergreen's powerful voice from behind Slade. Something snapped inside Slade; all the terrible emotions pouring forth without his control. He whirled around and glared at the older man with the face he would've shown to his father.

"Did you know how much I'm worth?" snarled Slade sarcastically. He gave an elaborate scoff. "Had I known, I'd have sold myself _years_ ago for the chance to get away! Ten thousand smackers's a ton, isn't it? Could do a whole lot on that. Isn't my _father_ so charming to have placed a price tag on my head? Wonderful, _isn't it?!_ Such the benevolent father." Slade scowled. "_Some father!_ He was an _animal_; a beast and I hate him!

_Hate him._

_I hate him._

_How could he do this to me? His own son! Was I really nothing to him? Was it all true…? I couldn't… I don't deserve…_

It snapped.

Something inside Slade's heart snapped, like a powerful wire crackling, and without the physical strength to withstand it, he could do nothing but sink to his knees. The floor seemed miles away as he dropped to the ground, knees first. He fell back onto his heels and hunched over with his hands clenched against the wood flooring. His shoulders were shaking terribly as he tried his all to regain his control. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't stop it – that shaking, that trembling, that _weakness_.

_No, I can't…_

_I can't cry._

_Not here._

Yet, try as he might, he couldn't stop that terrible burning in his eyes that warned him of the warm tears that wanted to burst forth – the emotions of his heart that he had locked away for so long, all of that was about to pour forth. He'd had to lock it away for so long – it had been the only way for his survival. But now that was all gone.

What did he have left?

If he showed weakness here, then he'd be forced away, wouldn't he? Crying was for boys and he had to prove that he wasn't just a boy. They'd send him away. No, this was his last chance. He couldn't blow it.

Oh, but he was…

A hot bead of a teardrop slipped down Slade's cheek; its heat attesting to all the pain that was locked away inside his heart.

A moment later, there was the soft sound of movement. Slade was vaguely aware that Wintergreen had knelt down in front of him.

"Listen to me, lad," said Wintergreen softly, gently touching Slade's chin and lifting his head; forcing him to look at the man through his glistening eyes. "I'll make a soldier out of you yet, if it's the last thing I do. The army take boys and make `em into men – and that's just what I'm going to do with you."

Slade swallowed once; giving the man a single acknowledging nod. He wasn't fully understanding what the man was saying. All he could do was try to remain still; stop that trembling that was threatening to overcome his body.

"One more thing," continued Wintergreen, a fierce, protective light entering his hazel green eyes. "I swear that no one will ever lay a harmful hand on you again. What I said earlier, I was merely trying to get a rise out of you; to get you to this point; to understand. I was lying about physical discipline on minors. You never have to fear about it again – _it will never happen again_. This I swear to you."

Slade didn't move; the words sinking down into his mind and soul. Wintergreen stood up, but Slade remained on the floor, his fists still clenched; his shirt lay on the floor beside him. Yet, the pressure inside his heart began to lessen. The words were beginning to settle there, his soul beginning to listen to those words of comfort. Safety was there once again.

He was safe.

"Maddie, would you please send Sergeant Kane and Private Kane into my office?"

Slade lifted his head slowly to see Wintergreen at his desk, leaning over with the phone to his ear. After a moment, he placed the phone back down onto the receiver; moving the curled cord aside. Then, Wintergreen came back around the desk to stand in front of Slade.

"You might want to stand up before the boys come in," said Wintergreen with a twinkle in his eye. Slade didn't answer nor respond as he frowned. He was a bit too late to act, though, as the door opened behind him.

"Sergeant Kane reporting for duty, sir."

"Private Kane doing the same."

Wintergreen seemed to roll his eyes at that – it was so faint, Slade almost missed it. Slade slowly turned around to look up at the two young men who were standing at attention.

The two males looked very much alike – almost twins; their heights perfectly aligned. But there were a few differences that made Slade wonder if that were really the case. The male on the right had grey blue eyes; his blond hair slightly dirtier than his companion's. He had a prominent jaw line that seemed to accent the mischievous look inside his eyes.

The other male standing on the left had emerald green eyes, his blond hair a lighter, dustier shade. He had high cheekbones, yet his jaw line was softer. The young man held a commanding air and Slade could the Sergeant stripes on his collar.

"This is Private Slade Wilson and the two of you are to keep an eye out for our youngest in the unit," said Wintergreen. "Slade, this is Sergeant Joseph Kane – I'm sure he'll let you call him Joey – and Private Grant Kane. They're brothers, actually."

Two pairs of eyes fell upon Slade and he couldn't help but feel embarrassed with his shirtless condition. The male with grey blue eyes seemed a little stunned, his eyebrows lifting into blond bangs. The male with green eyes seemed furious. He rounded on the major, fire blazing in those emerald green eyes.

"Major!" cried Joey, pointing at Slade's back. "What do you think you're doing?! This isn't army protocol!"

"I didn't do this to him."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Joey, as if he had been slapped. His eyes darted from Slade to the Major; a calculating air entering them. All Slade had time to do was blush deeply; feeling extremely insulted and exposed – as if his secrets were hanging out to dry for everyone to see.

"What kind of callous person whips a child?!" cried Joey, his anger boiling through his tone.

"I'm not a child!" snapped Slade heatedly; his face growing hotter.

"Sixteen years old is most certainly a kid," retorted Wintergreen; folding his arms.

"He's only sixteen?! Major, wha—"

"Shove it up your rear, old man!" snarled Slade, glaring at Wintergreen as he curled his arms around his chest. Joey gasped, staring down at him with an appalled glance. There was a shocked chuckle from Grant. Wintergreen raised an eyebrow and gained an expression that chilled Slade's stomach. He couldn't help but gulp nervously, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut.

"If your back wasn't busted up like that, then you'd be peeling potatoes in KP duty for the next five hours for disrespect," said Wintergreen, his commanding air and tone all through the dark corners of his voice. "Remember yourself, _child_."

"Well, I like him," drawled Grant with a smirk; leaning back against the wall with his hands behind his head. "Lots of fire and spirit in this one. He's a keeper, Maj. You know, he just needs a little direction. Set me to the job and I'll get him straight."

"With your sense of direction, he'll end up straight in jail," retorted Joey.

"He would not!"

Joey ignored him and leaned over to Wintergreen; whispering in the older man's ear, "Not to mention, the poor kid will probably end up fathering a child too soon."

If Slade was blushing before, he was _really_ blushing now; the heat reaching to his ears. He was feeling this conversation was _not_ going where he'd like it and he especially didn't like that he was the center of it all.

"_Hey!_ I'm not like that," said Grant; folding his arms across his chest and looking grumpy. Joey merely rolled his eyes. He walked to the door that connected to a different room. Joey stopped after he opened the door to look back.

"Well, while _you_ keep chatting like it's a beautiful day, _I'm_ going to get Private Wilson some medical help. Private, take a seat on the bench there."

With that, Joey walked out of the room.

Slade slowly got to his feet; still clutching his stomach nervously. He directed himself to the bench and kept his eyes down; feeling out of his element. Here he was with no one that he really knew. It was extremely unsettling. Everything was unfamiliar and Slade could feel weakness rise within his heart.

He had only wished for a normal life. Had that been too hard to ask? Surely normalcy wasn't that difficult of a wish to ask from the heavens or fates or whoever or whatever guided the lives of humans. He just wanted a family; someone to love and to love him back.

Would that ever happen?

"Hey, kiddo; don't mind my fussy little brother there," said Grant. Slade looked up into the young man's face. He was smirking down at him from the wall that he was leaning on. "We're twins, you know. But Joey's _naturally_ more motherly."

"_I heard that!_"

There was a confident smirk that flitted through Grant's face.

"You were supposed to," said Grant, his voice twirling mockingly.

"I know where you sleep at night," came Joey's call from the other room. Grant gave Slade a mischievous wink; his eyebrows bouncing upwards twice.

"Not tonight."

A moment later, Slade jolted back in shock as small first aid box smashed into Grant's face. There was choking grunt like cry from the young man as he dropped to a crouch; holding his face with his hands. The first aid kit clattered to the ground just a second after impact.

With wide eyes, Slade glanced towards the direction that the box came from – Joey was standing at the doorway; looking thoroughly smug.

"Found the first aid kit."

There were dark grumbles from Grant – something along the lines of becoming an only child. Wintergreen merely groaned lightly, appearing to be used to this, yet obviously tired of it. Joey didn't say anything as he walked to the fallen first aid kit and picked it up. He sat down next to Slade and began to rummage inside.

"You're cruel to your older brother," said Grant, looking through his hands with a pained expression. "You know that, right?"

"Oh, quit your whining," said Joey, taking some supplies out of the first aid kit. He grabbed Slade's upper arms gently and turned him slightly. "Turn like this for me, Slade – thank you. This'll sting a bit."

"You're kind to him, but not to me? _Your own brother?_"

Slade tucked his lower lip underneath his teeth as he hissed in pain from the cool ointment that began to be applied to his back. His shoulders automatically began to shudder as he tried extremely hard not to make sounds of pain.

"He's the kid with the busted up back and he's facing it like a man," said Joey, his tone even. "You're whining after getting a deserved first aid in the face."

"No one deserves that!"

"You dumped another one, didn't you? For that redhead, right?"

"Uh…"

"And just under _whose_ command was she?"

"…_Uh_…"

"_Grant Adam Kane!_" screamed an extremely irate voice. The owner of the name instantly froze; panic flooding through his face.

"Oh, crap," said Grant; bolting to his feet. His glance darted from side to side. "Somebody hide me."

"Oh, no. You take your comeuppance," said Joey with a satisfied smirk on his face. "I told you – you are a _menace_."

"Who's he trying to hide from?" asked Slade, wincing as Joey went over a tender welt."

"Our cousin."

"_Huh?—_"

The door burst open, the wood snapping and crunching with a shattering sound. The wood splintered at the metal hinges as the door fell to the floor with an enormous clatter. In its wake was a leg, held in the position of a powerful kick. The leg slowly lowered.

There stood a young woman with long wavy hair; its color a rich, dark auburn. There was a thick strand of white hair nearest her left eye. She had deep grey blue eyes there were narrowed dangerously.

"_Grant!_" growled the young woman.

The owner of the name swore lightly and began to back up nervously. Then, Grant darted away. He didn't even have a second to move a foot from his position. The young woman had expertly bolted to his spot and had him by the collar of his shirt before Slade could even blink.

"R–Rose, ho—how're you doing?" said Grant, stuttering slightly as he tried to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, shut your trap," snarled Rose as she shook him once; getting a firmer hold on him with her other hand. "Guess where I've been? I've been comforting a sobbing girl in my arms for the past _two hours_. I learned something highly interesting. What do you think I learned?"

"That you need a night out on the town?" tried Grant with a wry smirk. Joey groaned and muttered something along the lines of, _"No self preservation."_

"_No!_" shouted Rose. Grant winced in her grasp. "I learned that the cause of my wasted two hours with a sobbing girl all over me was all _your_ fault. How many times have I told you not to go after my girls!? If you want a girl, get a town girl, but leave _my_ girls alone. I don't have time to deal with the trail of broken hearts you leave behind. This is the army! Which you are a soldier of, so _comport yourself accordingly!_"

Grant was thrust out of her grasp; causing him to fall backwards onto the bench next to Slade. The young woman continued to glare at him; her hands on her hips. Grant adjusted his uniform for a moment and tried to give her a repentant expression – which was completely apparent to Slade that she was wasn't buying it. A moment later, that frightening expression turned to him.

"Who's the naked squirt?"

"_Hey!_"

"Don't bait him, Captain Worth," chided Wintergreen gently. The man sighed briefly as he looked at the shattered remains of his door. It almost seemed as if it had happened before by the expression that crossed his face. He motioned to Slade finally. "This is our newest and _youngest_ member."

"Quit acting like I'm just a little kid," snapped Slade; wincing again as he felt another sharp sting.

"Yay, another one," drawled Rose, folding her arms. "Do me a favor and keep Grant away from him."

"_Excuse me_."

"Roger that, Rose," grinned Joey.

"No way, you can't keep me away from my new _protégé_," protested Grant.

"You'll corrupt him."

"And you'll smother him."

"Boys…"

"You two are idiots, you know that? No offence, Joey."

"None taken."

A growl rumbled through Slade's stomach, far louder than it had been before. It made its position loud and clear to the rest of the occupants of the room. Slade ducked his head, his face reddening deeply as the heat flared through his cheeks.

"Huh, sounds like the naked squirt's hungry," said Rose; making Slade's face only grow hotter with embarrassment. "I'll get him some chow. Joey, keep your rabid brother away from him."

"No way, Rosie. He's mine," said Grant decidedly.

"_Don't call me Rosie!_"

Grant threw his arm around Slade's shoulders, firmly tucking the young teen close to his chest. Slade stiffened, shocked by the unthreatening touch from another human being – especially from another male at that. As Slade looked up into the young man's mischievous features, a smirk lifted that face and he spoke wryly.

"Welcome to the army, Slade."

….….…

* * *

**Next Time:** Chapter Ten: Shattered Deception – Distrust is brewing all throughout the Tower and Robin still can't clear the cobwebs he's spun around himself as he continues to seek for the answers of the past. Neither Starfire not Raven can seem to break through to him; in the which, Raven confronts him.

**Author's Notes:** *slumps on* FINALLY.

SO, at first when I was going to add Grant and Joey in this story, I seriously thought Joey would be a little softer. But then I realized that 22 years dealing with Grant could really alter a person's personality. Somehow, a bit more feistier Joey evolved while I imagined the two of them interacting. I'd say this Joey was softer spoken as a child, but quickly grew out of it while dealing with his older brother's shenanigans. ^^

Personally, it makes for hilarious content and interactions. XD Gotta love the first aid kit in the face. ROTFL.

Yes, I did change the hair color of Rose. I thought she totally needed a hair color to go with her fiery personality. :P

So, I have no idea how to sign up for the army in the 80s. Just pretend I do. I seriously researched it, but _blah_. Same goes for the ranks. I tried. Can't make heads or tails of it all. There's different sections? I dunno. Fanfiction, AU, this world has it easy, kay? *flails pathetically*

Thanks for reading! See ya next time! Reviews = love and ideas! ^.^


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